


Entreat Me Not to Leave

by ocfairygodmother



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Benjamin Tallmadge descendant, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Love, Of Love and War companion story, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2020-09-01 01:29:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20249920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocfairygodmother/pseuds/ocfairygodmother
Summary: Despite being nearly twenty-two, I had considered my life all but over before I went through the stones. My mother, father, and husband were all dead. I had nothing in my time. That was probably why I was quick to embrace the new life thrust before me. It was a second chance at life that most people dreamed of getting. Who was I to reject such an offer? • Jamie x OC •





	1. The Story Begins

_Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and _ _more also, if ought but death part thee and me. Ruth 1:16-17_

I stared at the words on the page before me. They seemed so profound. To be able to love someone so deeply was something I had always wanted and craved. I glanced at the band on my left hand before I clenched the hand into a fist. I had convinced myself that I had found what I had been looking for, but I think I was so caught up in the idea of love that I never actually allowed myself to find it. I had settled for what I thought was love. I knew now that I was wrong. But that didn't really matter now.

I closed my Bible and relaxed against the pillows of my bed. The book of Ruth always managed to bring me comfort and was my favorite book of the Bible. Perhaps it was the fact that we shared the name that made my connection deeper. Although, now I seemed to further understand Ruth's perspective having lost a husband myself. My brow furrowed. I knew I should feel sadder about Stephen's death. But I didn't. I hadn't truly needed him the way a wife needs a husband. Besides, the last few months had been rather hellish with him needing constant care and attention and as the doting wife, it had been my job to see to it. It wasn't that I minded looking after him. It was the fact that I knew my life would never be fulfilled the way I wished it to be.

I glanced around the room. It had been Stephen's boyhood room. Stephen's father, Stephen for whom he was named after, had insisted that we reside in his home when Stephen began to decline more rapidly. While it certainly had made the burden a bit easier, it came with its own challenges. The first being that the home was in Inverness, Scotland. Aside from schooling, I had only ever known life in the United States, the country my ancestors had fought to build. The second being the only people I knew were members of his family, most of whom I could hardly find refuge. And the third, everyone was still recovering from the war. No place seemed to have been safe from the turmoil of it. Then again, war was nothing new to my family.

Once more, I opened my Bible, but to the front cover where my family tree had been written. I could trace my lineage back to the American Revolution where Major Benjamin Tallmadge along with his wife, Lydia Woodhull-Tallmadge had secretly gathered intelligence essential to defeating the British. The Culper Spy Ring. Not many people knew of it, but I was certainly proud to have descended from Ben and Lydia especially given their contribution to the fight for freedom. And their love story was one to be envied. I know I certainly did. Their story probably nurtured my unrealistic expectations concerning love. I yearned for a love like theirs. Or at least I had. I wasn't sure what I believed anymore.

A small knock came at the door. Before I could even tell the person on the other side to enter, the door opened and quickly shut again. Before me stood Charlotte Arbuckle, more affectionately known as Lottie, in her nightgown, robe, and slippers standing with her back against my door. She stood there for a moment as if she were frozen in place before she ran over to my bed and hopped onto it beside me.

Lottie had dark brown curly hair, chocolate brown eyes, a warm smile, and had the pleasure of being my closest friend and confidant. We had met at the London (Royal Free Hospital) School of Medicine for Women. While we both attended medical school for completely different reasons, we found the company of each other quite enjoyable and became fast friends after a small hiccup in our early acquaintance. It was also through Lottie I had met Stephen. He had seemed to take quite a fancy to me and I was quite flattered by the attention, having at the time been recently orphaned at the time of his proposal. The thought of Lottie as a true sister was quite appealing, especially with her being the closest thing I had to family.

"How are you tonight, sister?" Lottie asked softly with a small sympathetic expression on her face as she took hold of my hand. I appreciated that she still called me sister, despite the fact that our connection was no longer.

"I'm fine, Lottie," I responded gently patting her hand with my free one, my American accent contrasting her Scottish one. "I promise."

I glanced at her and attempted a reassuring smile. I could tell that she didn't believe me, but she said nothing more. She just gave me a curt nod and squeezed my hand once more. "I-I need to brush my hair," I blurted suddenly before I got to my feet and walked to the small vanity in the room. I wasn't sure why that burst from me or why brushing my hair seemed the next best course of action. Then again, I wasn't sure about a lot of things these days.

I sat down in front of the vanity and picked up my hairbrush. The vanity had belonged to Stephen and Lottie's mother when she was a girl. Stephen had given it to me as a wedding present. It hardly felt right to accept such a personal gift, but it also seemed wrong to turn it down. It was one of the few times Stephen had actually tried. I sighed. My heart felt heavy. To most people, it would seem obvious that I should leave. But I had nowhere else to go.

In the mirror, I could see my bright blue eyes on the brink of tears. But the tears wouldn't be for Stephen. Not wanting to dwell on my near tears, I began to pull my hairbrush through my blonde waves, which were quite snarly. I hadn't brushed my hair the last few days. There hardly seemed a point in doing such things these days.

Lottie, upon seeing me struggle in the battle with my hair, walked over to me and placed her hand gently on my shoulder. "Let me," she said softly before she took the hairbrush from my hands.

Gently, Lottie began to brush my blonde locks. I closed my eyes. I hadn't someone brush my hair in quite some time. I couldn't help but remember when I was little. My father, who was parenting on his own, would brush my hair for me. He did not like it when I would squirm. A small smile played across my face as I tried to picture what my father's face looked like. It wasn't hard to imagine the annoyed expression on his face. I had seen it enough growing up.

"Ruthie," Lottie whispered as she paused from brushing my hair.

My eyes fluttered open and I turned to look at her. "Yes?"

"Perhaps we could go out tomorrow," Lottie suggested as turned my head so that she could continue to brush my hair. "I don't believe in all the time you've been here, you've seen the Scottish Highlands from beyond the fence."

"Well, I saw some of it on the drive here," I pointed out. "And when I needed to run to the shop."

She made a derisive noise in her throat I couldn't mimic. "That doesn't count," she said. "That isn't the Scottish Highlands. The Highlands are rich with history."

"Which I know nothing of," I chuckled softly. "Now, if we were in the U.S., I could bore you to death about the American Revolution and maybe even the Civil War."

"But you're here in the Highlands, meaning I get to bore you." Lottie smiled as she pulled a tendril of my hair straight before she let it bounce back up into a wave. "Or at the very least, distract you from your thoughts. Would it help persuade you if I take you to see a castle? I don't recall there being many of those in the U.S., aye?"

"If there are any, I haven't seen them," I responded with a wry smile.

"It's settled then. We're going."

My brow furrowed. "Hang on, aren't you supposed to be meeting, whats-his-name, tomorrow?" I couldn't remember the man's name, but Lottie's father had been trying to get the two of them to meet for months now. All I knew about him was that he was wealthy and that her father, rather old-fashioned, was trying to marry his daughter off for money. So far, she had refused. Lottie was quite stubborn. I was told it was a trait passed on from her mother.

Lottie rolled her eyes. "Family comes first," she said before giving my shoulder a squeeze. "Besides, if the man is as interested as Father says, then he can wait a little longer." Especially if he wants my money, I knew she was thinking without even saying anything.

"If you say so."

"I do. Now, would you like me to plait your hair?"

I nodded my head. Lottie softly smiled and ran her fingers through my hair before beginning the single braid down my back. I was thankful to have her there to braid my hair. It certainly wasn't an easy task to do on one's own. My father had done it for me when I was little. When I was old enough to do it on my own, I would often lay on my bed with my hair dangling over the side. I much preferred someone else doing it.

A attempted to stifle a yawn. Lotte looked at me and shook her head. "I know you haven't been sleeping much," she said softly with her hands resting on her shoulders.

"I've been sleeping fine," I said, my tone rather short and irritable. But we both knew her statement to be accurate.

"It isn't a criticism, Ruthie," she sighed. "I only mentioned it because I thought you might like to brush up on your Scottish history before tomorrow. If so, we should head to Father's study and find you a book."

I could tell she was trying to be helpful. I inhaled deeply and nodded my head. "Yes, I think a history book might be the perfect thing to put me to sleep." We both chuckled at my response. Lottie gave my shoulder a squeeze. I grabbed my robe from the back of the chair and pulled it on before I followed Lottie into the corridor.

I trailed behind Lottie until we came to her father's study. Lottie knocked once and when no one answered, she opened the door. She grabbed my arm and pulled me inside before she quietly shut the door behind us. I leaned against the door and examined the room. I had been here before, but it suddenly felt like we weren't supposed to be here. Like we were children sneaking in where we were forbidden, rather than like the twenty-one-year-old grown women we actually were.

Lottie walked right up to a shelf and plucked a book before she tossed it to me. It was a blue book on Scotland's history. "You weren't kidding, were you?" I chuckled.

She turned and looked at me over her shoulder. "I would never kid about such a thing as Scotland's history. Those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it."

I rolled my eyes and rested my hands on my hips. "And pray tell, what history are we going to repeat wandering the Scottish Highlands?"

Lottie smirked. "How should I know? It hasn't happened yet."

I sighed and shook my head. "Fine, I'll attempt it. But I shall make no promises as to how far I'll get." I thumbed through the pages of the book. The print was quite small. There was no way I would even make a dent in the book before we left in the morning. But I would make a valiant effort, hoping to tire myself enough to fall asleep. While I had told Lottie otherwise, I couldn't remember the last time I had actually had a decent night's sleep.

Lottie traced a finger over the books as she continued her search. By this time, I myself had moved from my spot near the door and was browsing the shelves. I didn't know the next time I would be in this room, so I figured I might as well have several books to keep me occupied for my stay. Not that I was planning on leaving any time soon, but I still felt very much like a visitor in this place than a member of the family. Being here felt like an extended stay, not forever.

I was rather taken aback by one of the books I found. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. My brow furrowed as I plucked it off the shelf and turned toward Lottie. "Your father reads Austen?"

Lottie took the book from me and examined it before she gave it back to me with a chuckle. "It belonged to my mother. I doubt he's ever opened it, aside from looking at her name inside the cover. He doesn't seem it but he's quite sentimental."

Sentimental. That description didn't quite match the Stephen Arbuckle I knew, but Lottie knew him much better than I did. I would just have to take her word for it. I would have liked to have borrowed it, but I didn't want to anger Mr. Arbuckle, by taking such a treasure.

I moved to put it back on the shelf, but Lottie reached out and put her hand on my arm. "You can borrow it. It's not that sentimental. Father probably has at least a hundred books that once belonged to my mother. So, go on. I insist."

I nodded my head and placed Pride and Prejudice on top of the Highland history book. Lottie continued her search. I was rather content with my finds, seeing as I had a few of my personal books in my room beside my Bible. Lottie, on the other hand, had at least half a dozen books laden in her arms. My brow furrowed. "Do I want to know?" I asked her.

"Probably not," she chuckled.

I left it at that. I trusted that she would tell me when she was good and ready. Which I certainly hoped was soon, because I was quite curious. Lottie then motioned toward the door with her head. I opened it, letting Lottie leave first before I shut the door after us. Our bedrooms were on opposite sides of the study, so I bid Lottie goodnight and scurried to my room.

I set the books down on my bedside table and knelt on the floor beside my bed to pray like I had been taught to do since I was a child. My father had seen to raise me in his Protestant faith and the Catholic faith of my mother, going to church twice on Sundays. While that would likely confuse most people, my mother's faith had been important to her and my father wanted me to be able to have that connection to her. While my own leanings were neither purely Protestant or Catholic, I did believe there was a God. I believed that he sent his Son to die for the sins of the world. And I also believed that one day, I would be reunited with the mother I had never met, but knew loved me.

I closed my eyes and folded my hands on my bed before addressing God, not feeling it necessary for any saint intermediate. I thanked God for getting me through another day and for all he provided for me. I wasn't very specific, but I knew to be grateful for those things. I prayed for Stephen's soul and I prayed that God would guide my next steps as far as my life was concerned.

To be honest, I wasn't sure what was next for my life. While most would still consider me young, I felt like I had already lived enough for several lifetimes. At this point, I figured I was ready to begin my life as a spinster. But the question was where. While I was still mourning, I knew I would be welcome to remain in the Arbuckle home. After that, however, I wasn't sure I wanted to remain. Perhaps, I ought to make my way back to America. Not that I felt there was anything there for me. Yes, I certainly needed to Lord's guidance.

After an amen, I flipped my braid over my shoulder and crawled into my bed. Lottie was right. I hadn't been sleeping. My mind just couldn't seem to stop racing. I knew the old adage of counting sheep, but I could never make it past a dozen sheep without growing bored and my mind wandering elsewhere. I had tried counting my blessings, but my mind always wandered to my losses: mother, father, Stephen, my home, the war. I didn't enjoy crying myself to sleep, but sometimes it seemed the only thing that worked.

I reached for the history book on the Scottish Highlands, willing to try another approach to falling asleep. While my words to Lottie about history making me fall asleep had been in jest, the truth was my family was richly steeped in American history, so I loved to learn about it. Although, I must confess my downfall in being only interested in American history, much to the dismay of my teachers growing up. While I could tell you that there was a man named Charlemange and I knew he was important, I had no idea why. I had heard of the Magna Carta before, I hadn't any more knowledge than it was important. But in school, I had no foundation to base my knowledge. I had never been beyond America at the time. Perhaps having lived in the Highlands for some time now would help me care more.

So, I leaned back and opened the book, hoping to learn something about the Highlands before tomorrow's adventure.

* * *

Author's Note: Hi! I wasn't going to post this so soon, but I wanted to help cheer up a friend dealing with the loss of a grandparent. So, here it is. Thank you to anyone who took the time to read this. I know most people ship Jamie with Claire. Ruthie's story starting out won't be that much different from Claire's but things will change. As much as I love Jamie/Claire, Claire annoys me quite a bit, so this was my stab at rectifying me being annoyed.

A few housekeeping things:

Lydia Woodhull-Tallmadge is my OC featured in my TURN Washington's Spies fanfic. For those of you who haven't seen TURN, it's based in the American Revolutionary War.

You can find more about Ruthie on my tumblr accounts: ruthietallmadgefraser is for this story and missjanuarylily is my author blog.

I'm trying something new with my chapter updates, I want to feature an author or two of my friends in the OC to help promote them. This time I'll go with Darkwolf76 has OC fanfics for: Game of Thrones, Harry Potter, and Lord of the Rings.

Ruthie's faceclaim: Hannah New as Eleanor Guthrie (Black Sails)

Lottie's faceclaim: Heida Reed as Elizabeth (Poldark)


	2. Castle Leoch

The next morning, I found myself awakened by Lottie gently shaking me and calling my name. I slowly opened an eye at her. It seemed like I had just fallen asleep after spending hours reading. The book on the Scottish Highlands lay on the bed beside me, still open to the page I had been reading. I closed my eyes again. It couldn't possibly be time to get up. So I glanced out my bedroom window to find that it was still dark outside. Why on earth was she waking me now? She knew I never awoke before sunrise unless absolutely necessary.

I could hear the words Lottie had once spoken to me in jest: You'd never have survived if you married a farmer. Her words might not have been far from the truth. I groaned and pulled the covers over my head.

Lottie must have known I thought it was too early to be awake because she said, "Father informed me that he was inviting Matthew for breakfast if we were planning on going out today."

I knew why she was telling me this and it wasn't because she wanted to see Matthew. "So, we're going out before he gets here then?" I asked, despite already knowing the answer to my question. She didn't respond to me, so I slowly poked my head out from beneath my blanket just enough to see her. She then turned on the light. Too bright. I dove beneath the blankets once more and hit.

She placed her hands on her hips. "A beautiful drive through the Highlands at sunrise is just what you need."

Had my eyes not still been tightly shut trying to block the light, I would have rolled them at her statement. Instead, I retorted, "You mean, it's what you need."

Lottie rolled her eyes and nodded her head before she pulled the quilts from my body. I groaned and rolled over to bury my face in the pillows. I wasn't normally this ornery. I'll confess, I certainly could be from time to time, but I had changed drastically since Stephen had taken ill. I had changed both physically and mentally, sometimes I hardly recognized the person I had become. I wanted to be the person I was before Stephen, but I wasn't sure I could ever be her again.

I sighed, knowing Lottie was only trying to help before I rolled onto my back. "How long do I have?" I asked.

She smirked in victory. "About five minutes before my father wakes."

I propped myself on my elbows and nodded my head, looking at her rather curiously. She glanced at her wristwatch.

"Which should give you about twenty minutes." Lottie gently smacked my leg before she bent down and grabbed the quilt she had tossed on the floor. "This way you won't get any ideas," she said before she left the room with my quilt.

I chuckled softly before I plopped myself back against the pillows. I had no intention of falling back asleep. Partly because it took too long to do so. Another thing that had changed about me since my marriage to Stephen. Before him, I usually fell asleep once my head hit the pillow. Now, I spent most of my nights awake. But that wasn't my only reason for not going back to sleep. I knew Lottie needed me.

I knew how badly Lottie wanted to not have to meet Matthew. I can't say that I blamed her. My marriage to Stephen hadn't been based on love. Infatuation, perhaps; but also because of money. Something about him coming into a large sum of money once he married. It was only later I realized that about him. Not to mention that I inherited a fair amount after the death of my father. And being as naive as I was back then about finding someone, it all seemed to have snowballed. No, I didn't wish any part of that on Lottie.

I quickly said my prayers and got ready for the day. I left the braid in my hair from the night before and quickly dressed in clothes that would be deemed acceptable to the outside world, while still being functional for exploring the Highlands. I hadn't seen much of them, having landed in Inverness. But what I had seen thus far looked quite beautiful. They almost looked like they could heal one's soul and part of me wished that they could heal mine. But that seemed too much to ask.

Grabbing the history book from my bed, I stuffed it into my satchel along with Pride and Prejudice and Of Love and War, a memoir by Lydia Woodhull-Tallmadge. The love story of Ben and Lydia was one of my favorites. While I had no interest in my own love story at the moment, I still did enjoy reading others. I loved to read and if we had any time to rest, it might be nice to find a tree and do some reading.

Stumbling out of my room as I pulled my shoes on, I found Lottie waiting for me. Clearly, she hadn't thought I was capable of getting ready without another warning. I shot her a knowing look and she smiled before leading me downstairs. We crept quietly down the stairs, Lottie warning me which stairs to skip because they creaked. Once again, I felt very juvenile, but it was also slightly invigorating.

Lottie must have had the car pulled around already because she led me out the front door where Mrs. Campbell stood with a picnic basket. Mrs. Campbell had been with the Arbuckle family since Lottie was a child. I knew Lottie thought of the woman like an aunt and if I recalled correctly, Stephen had told me the woman was some sort of relation. Truthfully, I too liked Mrs. Campbell. She had certainly been a blessing to me since I had arrived.

If Mrs. Campbell was helping us with our early adventure, she didn't approve of the match Lottie's father was trying to make. Mrs. Campbell hugged each of us before Lottie and I hopped in the automobile. We left the Arbuckle estate just as the sun was beginning to rise and break through the clouds.

Lottie was right.

As she drove, I couldn't help but have my breath taken away by the beauty of a sunrise against the backdrop of the Scottish Highlands. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to take a mental photograph of the sight. I didn't want to forget it. It was the first time I could remember finding something truly beautiful in quite a long time. Honestly, since before my marriage to Stephen. He hadn't meant to dwindle away my joy, but that couldn't have been helped. I opened my eyes and sighed. My heart felt just the tiniest bit lighter than it had in months, perhaps even years.

When we pulled up to Castle Leoch, it wasn't anything like I had expected. Maybe the American in me or I had been told too many fairy tales growing up, but I had expected something grander. Of course, when my mind thought castle, it immediately thought of Neuschwanstein in Germany and Castle Leoch was no Neuschwanstein. The building looked decrepit and run-over. It clearly hadn't been lived in, in some time. Although, it certainly did look fascinating.

The automobile turned off. Lottie exited the car and smiled at me. I followed suit, adjusting my headscarf once my feet were firmly planted on the ground. "It's been since before the war since I've been here," Lottie acknowledged. "So, you'll forgive me for not remembering everything Mother told me about the place."

I smiled and gently patted her arm in reassurance. "You're talking to the ignorant American. You could make it all up and I wouldn't know the difference."

Lottie chuckled. "I'd hardly call you ignorant. But as far as making up the history and you not knowing? That could be completely true." Lottie smiled and looped her arm through mine. "But I won't do that to you. Now, where to start…" With her free hand, Lottie drummed her bottom lip with her fingers. She nodded her head before she started up again. "Castle Leoch was the thriving ancestral home to the laird of Clan Mackenzie but that all changed after the Battle of Culloden. Although some Mackenzies did manage to stay here until about the middle of the 19th century. But it just wasn't the same...or so I've been told." She turned and looked at me curiously. "Did you get that far? Culloden?"

I shook my head.

Lottie nodded hers, acknowledging it nearly impossible to get that far in the book in one sitting, even for such an avid reader such as myself. She cleared her throat before continuing, "Culloden was the final conflict during the Jacobite Rising of 1745...the Jacobite Rising being the Scots who fought for the true king James Stuart to reclaim Scotland's throne. Anyway, Culloden was an awful mess and we lost. The Scots were suppressed after. Their very way of life stripped from them. The Gaelic language and tartans were forbidden. It wasn't a pretty time, that's for certain. I imagine something similar could have happened in America had you not won your war."

I nodded my head. It was something to wrap my mind around-the same oppressors had defeated the Jacobites but lost to the Continentals, albeit years later. But still, it seemed difficult to imagine what America might be like today had the Rebels lost. We stopped for a moment on the path to the castle. I looked at Lottie who looked rather admiringly at the castle. "Do you know this much about all the castles in Scotland or just this one?"

"Not all," she chuckled. "Mother said we have MacKenize of Loech blood in us. So, she brought Stephen and me to Leoch to teach us about humble beginnings or something of the sort. Didn't want Father corrupting us with only the Arbuckle family history." Lottie paused to laugh. "Not that it helped much, as you well know. That being said, I know the history of some of the ancestral homes on my mother's side. I didna much care for the history of the Arbuckle family. Don't mistake me, I learned it until I could recite it in my sleep. But I didna much care for it. Always preferred Mother's side of the family, much more interesting."

"Well then," I said, "show me the ancestral home of Clan MacKenzie." I purposely slipped into a terrible Scottish accent on the words Clan MacKenzie, attempting to poorly imitate Lottie. She shook her head and chuckled.

"Never do that again," she teased before she tugged my arm and we walked toward the castle.

We passed through what must have been the front gates into what had once been a courtyard. Although, did it ever stop being a courtyard if the building was still somewhat standing? I shrugged my shoulders and somewhat listened as Lottie described what happened in the courtyard...not that it was all that difficult to figure out on one's own; but Lottie needed today's outing as much as I dd. So, I let her speak at length on the subject.

We were about to cross the threshold into the actual castle itself when I paused. "Are you sure it's safe?" I asked.

Lottie nodded her head. "There's no condemned building notice up," she responded. "Although, I can't say a condemned building notice ever stopped Mother from showing us a few places." Lottie then winked at me and disappeared inside.

I groaned a little, tugging at my cross necklace. While I certainly had grown more cautious in my time on this earth, my sense of adventure hadn't been completely snuffed out. So, I followed after her. I stopped after a few steps to let my eyes adjust to what seemed like darkness after being out in the new morning sun. Electricity and light bulbs hadn't yet been invented when the castle fell in disarray. I could vaguely make out the spots where candles might have been placed, waxy build-up giving away a few places. But it was very likely they would have relied on natural light as well to brighten the place.

I found Lottie waiting for me at the top of an uneven stone staircase. I jogged up the stairs, something I had done since I was a child. I had never been one for simply walking up the stairs. While I had no evidence to prove my case, I often blamed it on my height...or lack thereof. Being almost two inches about five feet, I blamed many things on my height. I momentarily smiled at the list of things I regularly attributed to my height before I stopped beside Lottie. She grinned and shook her head at me in a teasing manner. She used to tease me about being lost in thought so frequently, but hadn't since Stephen.

Lottie looped her arm through mine and pulled me along as we passed through the stone-walled corridors, most of which were still held up reasonably well. We stopped at the threshold to a very large room. "This would have been the Great Hall," she explained. "They dined here, danced here, were entertained here...but most importantly, the laird would hear disputes here. Several Gatherings were held here as well."

"What sort of gatherings?" I asked. "Besides dinner, dances, and the entertainment you mentioned."

"Not those kind of gatherings. A Gathering was a large assembling of the clansmen. Here it would have been the MacKenzies. They would swear an oath of loyalty to the laird. It wasn't all so serious though. They would participate in the tynchal and games."

"Sorry, dumb American here. What's a tynchal?"

Lottie smiled and nudged me. "It's a Scottish ceremonial hunt for stags or boars during a Gathering."

"Of course it is," I said rather sarcastically. "Us Tallmadges had those all the time. We love us a good tynchal."

"There's no need to mock," Lottie teased.

"Sure there is." I looked at Lottie rather pointedly. "Besides, I'm not mocking you. I'm mocking myself. I'd never survive Scotland without you."

"I'm sure you'd manage well enough playing the dumb American who actually isn't as dumb as she lets on."

I giggled. "Now, don't go giving away my secrets."

Lottie smiled. "Your secret is safe with me. Just know that I don't buy the act for a second. I know you do it for a good laugh at times. But some poor unsuspecting lad might easily fall for your charms." She smiled at me like she had during our college years, when most of what she liked to talk about was the lads. We spent many late nights discussing such matters in the room we shared in our lodgings at medical school. I had enjoyed those nights immensely.

I smiled and blushed. It felt like old times. But a pang of guilt hit my heart. Was it too soon after Stephen to even joke about such things? Lottie knew that I had no desire to even look for someone else. I thought of what Stephen had told me before he died and wondered if he had expressed the same thing to Lottie.

She must have noticed me retreating to the corners in my mind because Lottie tugged at my arm and led me into the Great Hall. "Come, Ruthie. I'll teach you the dance my mother taught me when she brought me here. It seems only proper."

"I-I'm not much of a dancer," I attempted to protest.

"Liar," she laughed, still dragging me behind her. "You always seemed to enjoy dancing when we went out."

"Because I spent most of the time laughing at myself." I was breathing a little more heavily than normal when we came to a stop in the middle of the room. I placed my hands on my hips. "You know gracefulness has never been my strong suit. Father spent countless hours trying to teach me simple dances. The only ones I could manage were the slow ones and that's because I was standing on his feet and holding on for dear life."

That made Lottie laugh, which made me smile. I had been blessed with a loving father who had certainly tried his best to raise me on his own. He hadn't been perfect, but I never doubted his love for me. Truthfully, I missed my father more than I missed Stephen. But Lottie was determined to keep me from the recesses of my mind. Her hands snaked out and snatched mine.

I wasn't sure the name of the dance she attempted to teach me, but she was slow and patient with me. Several times we erupted into small fits of giggles when I would bump into her, step on her toes, or when my scarf fell from my head and I slipped on it. But she had been warned that I was rather inept. Although, I was thankful Lottie also messed up a time or two, especially when she would forget she was supposed to be leading the dance. We giggled then too.

By the end of the impromptu lesson, Lottie was able to sing the words to the song, which was in Gaelic, rather than direct my steps. I still did make several mistakes, but I managed to laugh them off. Lottie had been right again. While I would never be a ballerina, I did enjoy dancing...at least a little. It took my mind off things and brought back a small amount of joy into my life.

We then resumed the rest of our adventure through the castle. The cautiousness I had expressed earlier had vanished. There were times I was even leading Lottie through the corridors. The room that had once been the laird's study had clearly been rifled through for the sake of historical preservation, but some books that had been beyond saving still remained on the shelves. Some books looked to have been eaten by mice and others were growing things, but it was still part of someone's history and that fascinated me. But I wasn't quite sure why I found it so. Perhaps it wasn't only American history I could find interesting.

I felt very out of place in Leoch's kitchen the moment we stepped into it. I couldn't cook as it was with modern amenities, always having had people to do it for me. It was a wonder how they were able to do it in the earlier centuries at all. I likely would have starved or accidentally poisoned someone. Although, baking did intrigue me. I was convinced great-great-great-great-great grandma Lydia managed to hold her marriage to Ben together because of her baking skills. Several recipes were included in her memoir. Likely the ones Ben liked the most. I absently brushed the book in my satchel and slightly smiled at the thought of them.

Just when I thought I had seen everything there was to see in the castle, Lottie opened another door to a staircase which descended. "I think you'll find the room at the end of the stairs especially interesting," Lottie said softly.

I arched my eyebrow curiously before I followed after her down the stairs. The room at the bottom was larger and had much more light than I expected, especially for being so far down. There was a fireplace on one wall and shelves lined with bottles on another. A large table with baskets, jars, and tools stood in the middle of the room and dried plants hung from the ceiling. I looked at Lottie blankly. I didn't have a clue what this room had once been used for.

Lottie folded her arms across her chest. "Mother called this room a surgery in the 18th century."

"Surgery?" I questioned, my brow furrowing as I looked at the items on the table. "If I recall correctly, I'm pretty sure 18th-century surgery was cutting everything off." My words were said in jest, but they weren't too far off.

Lottie chuckled. "While I'm certain limbs were likely removed here, Mother said a surgery was where a healer did his work. Not only amputations."

I scoffed a little at his work. While I wasn't using my medical expertise anymore, I was as skilled as any male doctor and certainly more skilled than any 18th-century healer. I had worked at my father's side at his practice for years before attending medical school. I knew nearly as much as my teachers at the time, but I needed the degree for the title of doctor. But that was something I had given up for Stephen. I had thought that being a wife and a mother would be enough for me and perhaps it could have been.

I shook myself out of my reverie to find Lottie listing off the remnants of the herbs that remained and what they were good for. Although, some she said had no medical use. I smiled. While Lottie's motives for attending medical school were mostly to thwart her father and his attempts to marry her off, she did have a knack for herbs and more natural remedies.

Suddenly, my stomach growled loud enough for Lottie to hear. I placed my hands on my stomach trying to quiet it, but that only made Lottie laugh harder. "Let's go eat. I know the perfect spot," Lottie said once her laughter subsided.

I eagerly agreed to this.

We left the castle and I followed Lottie through the overgrown grass. There must have been a trail that she was following, but it wasn't easy for me to follow. Thankfully, Lottie seemed to know where she was going. After what seemed like quite a trek, we came to a stop at a lake, or loch, as Lottie referred to it. I could see why she had thought of this place. It seemed very tranquil and the view was stunning.

I scrambled behind Lottie to some large rocks that were nestled near the water's edge, but high enough from the water's reach. We took our shoes and stockings off before we sat down, our legs dangling over the side of the rock with our toes inches from the water. Well, quite a few more inches for my toes than Lottie's. Lottie set the basket Mrs. Campbell packed between us. We had cold chicken, slices of buttered bread, cheese, apples, and some cookies to eat.

We ate in silence, neither of us wanting to disturb the serenity of the place. I imagined this spot was perfect to watch the sun rise and set or to even come to think. As I nibbled on a cookie, I glanced down at my left hand. I still sported the gold band with a rather large diamond given to me by Stephen. Despite the ongoing war, he still insisted on the setting. I didn't care much for gold, but he had liked the ring and honestly, I just cared that I was being given a ring at the time.

I gently brushed my ring hand against the rock to reveal that my hand had been resting on something etched into the stone. JAMMF. The letters were old and worn, but still clearly visible. My brow furrowed curiously. I hadn't a clue what that meant, but my index finger traced each letter as if drawn to them. And then for reasons I couldn't even explain myself, I removed Stephen's ring from my finger and wrapped it in my scarf before I placed it in the pocket of my satchel. I let my hand rest on the letters once more, drawing a strength from them that I didn't understand.

I carefully undid did the braid from my hair and shook out my long golden waves, letting them blow in the wind as I inhaled slowly with my eyes closed. I almost felt alive again. Almost. I then pulled Of Love and War from my satchel and set it on my lap. I read for a bit, my left hand still drawn to the letters in the stone.

Eventually, Lottie and I headed back to the automobile to move on to our next adventure. From my spot in the passenger's seat, I glanced at Leoch once more. "You said Culloden is when everything changed?" I asked.

"Aye. Not just Leoch though. The entire Highlander way of life, mind you."

I looked curiously at the building in front of us."So, if Culloden hadn't happened, do you think your family would still be at Leoch?"

"Och, no. The last MacKenzie to be traced back in my bloodline was a woman, so she went to her husband's lands. Besides, she left Leoch long before Culloden." Lottie was silent for a moment, pondering things before she quietly added, "But I do imagine a fair number of the estates and the history might have been better preserved if it hadn't happened or had we won."

I nodded my head in understanding from the perspective of a descendant of the American Revolution. I pulled my scarf from my satchel. After a long sigh, I returned the ring to my finger and the scarf to my head. I then turned to Lottie. "So, where to next?"

Lottie simply grinned.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I truly hope you enjoyed this chapter of Ruthie's journey and getting to know Lottie. Things will speed up in a few chapters, but I definitely wanted to establish Ruthie a bit before throwing her into the lion's den.

If you have Tumblr this story's blog is: ruthietallmadgefraser. My personal blog is missjanuarylily. And a fabulous OC blog is ocappreciation.


	3. Little Visits

It was raining. It was always raining. One thing I missed about Connecticut was that it didn't rain all the time as it did here. I missed the home in Litchfield. I loved rainy days there, reading a book in front of the fireplace in a home that seemed much cozier. It was a home that had been designed for a family to gather together in close proximity to one another. It was also the house Ben had built for Lydia. It was a home I loved, but it no longer belonged to my family. Once my father passed, I had been forced to sell it. I had wanted to keep it, but once I became engaged to Stephen, I knew the likelihood of ever stepping foot in that house again was slim and that house deserved to have a family. People might call me crazy for thinking the house needed a family, but it was true and I had found a nice husband and wife with three children willing to make it theirs. The fact that the daughter's name was Lydia had sold me on selling it to them, despite how heartbroken it made me. It had been a sign. Fate. Although, I wasn't so sure I believed in such things anymore.

I stepped outside onto the veranda, although back home I would have called such a place a porch, and I watched the rain lessen to an annoying drizzle. I was thankful the downpour of rain had held off until Lottie and I had returned from another morning adventure. Over the last few days, Lottie had shown me other buildings and places with rich Scottish history in the Highlands. I loved every minute of it. I think the adventures were making me begin to feel like myself again and I think Lottie noticed, which was why she continued to take me out. I was also making progress in the history book. True to her word, it was helping me fall asleep. So much so that I found myself dreaming about the Highlands and men in kilts. Although, there seemed to be a recurring tall red-headed man dressed in a kilt in my dreams. Not that I minded, but I couldn't help but wonder how I had dreamt him up.

Childishly, I held my hand out under a gush of water before I shook it off. I then cast my gaze toward the small cemetery in the distance. I sighed. Stephen had been buried there. I hadn't been to see him since we had laid him to rest. It probably sounded stupid, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to say to him. Part of me never wanted to speak to him again, but I knew that I probably needed some sort of closure. I had gotten some closure the day before he had passed and while his death shouldn't have come as a shock, it did. The part of the grieving widow came out of shock over losing everything, not because I had lost the love of my life. Not that those who attended Stephen's funeral knew any better, nor did they need to.

I sighed once more. I didn't have a good reason for procrastinating this. I should probably just get it done and over with. So I walked inside the house to grab an umbrella before I walked slowly, but deliberately down the gravel path that led to the cemetery. I could hear the wind pitter-pattering against my umbrella. I could see the wind rustling the branches on the trees. I could smell the sweet scent of wet grass. I was focusing on everything, but Stephen, who had been my sole focus the last few months of his life. I didn't care to relive those days. But something in the pit of my stomach told me that now was the time to seek my closure.

I stopped in front of his grave and inhaled a deep breath, before exhaling it slowly. "Hello, Stephen," I whispered. I wasn't sure why I was whispering. There was no one around to hear me. I raked my fingers through my hair, removing the pins, allowing it to cascade in soft waves down my back. I supposed it would be rather stupid to ask how he was doing. He was dead. I never had an issue talking to my parents when I got to visit their graves. But my emotions were still raw from Stephen. He was supposed to have been my everything, but he wasn't. Nor would he ever be.

"Sorry, I haven't visited yet. I-I wasn't ready. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure that I'm ready now, but Mrs. Graham gave me an ominous warning the other day when she came over to visit Mrs. Campbell. She said I ought to do it soon before I couldn't. I'm not entirely sure what she means. She's a strange woman. I'm surprised Reverend Wakefield took her on. She's an odd duck to be sure. Speaking of the Reverend, he's coming by for dinner tonight with a couple on their second honeymoon. Not that it really matters...or that you even care. After all, you're dead."

I was procrastinating again, rambling about our dinner guests instead of saying my piece. I pulled my hair behind my ears. I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," I said barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to hold your hand when you passed. I-I know you asked that of me and I had no intention of refusing you. Your father convinced me that I should get some sleep and that he would wake me if...if...you know. By the time I got to your room, you had already passed. So, I'm sorry."

I twisted the wedding ring on my finger. "Also, I know you made me make you another promise...but I'm not sure I'm going to be able to keep that one either. You and I both know it won't be because I'm too deep in grief. It's just that everyone leaves me so it's probably safer for everyone if I don't keep that promise. Besides, who could possibly want me? An American living in Scotland with not a penny to her name."

My hand reached out and touched the headstone. I lithely traced the letters of his name, letting the rain bead on the back of my hand. "I-I don't know that I'll see you again. Your father is growing restless with my presence and is very insistent on marrying off Lottie. I'm thinking of finding work in town. I haven't a clue where I'll go or what I'll do, but I think Mrs. Campbell would be willing to help me out. Maybe I'll even go back to America one day. I don't know. Marrying you changed everything for me. Your death did the same."

I sighed. "I haven't the heart to tell Lottie yet. But soon though. I just figured that as my husband you had the right to know first." I paused and pulled my hand back beneath the umbrella and wiped it against my coat. I had expected to cry. But there really wasn't any love lost between Stephen and me. "Goodbye, Stephen," I said before I turned on my heel and marched back to the house, somehow knowing it would be our last visit for quite some time.

Once I was inside the house, I quickly retreated to my room. I withdrew Of Love and War from my bag and settled down on my bed to read Lydia's story. My favorite parts were always the ones when Ben was involved. Those two had been made for each other. When I was younger I had prayed that God would lead me to the man meant for me, but that didn't happen. Stephen hadn't been meant for me the way Ben had been meant for Lydia and I was fine with that. It was no longer a prayer I fervently prayed.

I must have fallen asleep while reading because the next thing I knew, there was a frantic knock at my door. After I groggily responded, Mrs. Campbell nearly flew inside my room with an exasperated oh dear escaping from her mouth. I caught a brief glimpse of my reflection and acknowledged that my appearance was quite a sight. My dress was severely wrinkled and my tamed hair was no longer so. Mrs. Campbell reached out a hand and helped pull me to my feet.

"We need to fix you up. Mr. Arbuckle would not pleased to see you in such a state, especially in front of guests," she gently told me without a hint of scolding her voice.

"Then maybe I shouldn't go to dinner," I sighed, folding my arms across my chest as Mrs. Campbell began to rummage through my wardrobe.

Mrs. Campbell paused for a moment to look at me. "You and I both know that is not an option." She then went back to my wardrobe and pulled a light blue dress that tied at the waist. "Ah, here we go. This one brings out your eyes. You always look lovely in it."

"Why does it matter whether or not I look lovely? There is no need for me to impress the reverend and I'm sure the man accompanying him will be completely smitten with his wife."

The older woman sighed. "You know how Mr. Arbuckle is as far as appearances are concerned." She then pulled the dress from the hanger and motioned for me to remove my current apparel.

Yes, I did know that all too well. It was something I had quickly learned in the early days of my marriage. At times, I wondered how much of the Stephen I had gotten to know before our wedding day was strictly for appearance's sake and not him at all. I was certain Mrs. Campbell could answer part of that question for me, but I didn't want to put her in a position to be at odds with her employer.

I removed my dress before she helped me into the blue one. She tied the sash tightly at my waist revealing my small figure before she ushered me to sit at my vanity. It was a scene similar to the one the other night with Lottie, but Mrs. Campbell said nothing as she pinned my hair into place on top of my head. It certainly wasn't the most modern hairstyle and I much preferred to let my hair hang loose in long golden curls, but it would do for the evening. Like I had told her, it wasn't like I had anyone I was trying to impress.

I made it downstairs a few minutes before Reverend Wakefield and the couple arrived. I sat on the sofa beside Lottie and could feel the scrutinizing gaze of Mr. Arbuckle on me. I think the only reason I had been enough to garner his approval was the money I had inherited. Money which was no longer mine. I hadn't found it necessary to read carefully read the contract drawn up before our marriage. All my money became part of the Arbuckle estate unless otherwise stated and as far as I knew, Stephen never had a will drawn up. Meaning all my money now belonged to his father, the owner of the Arbuckle estate and it was only a matter of time before my time on the estate was no longer welcomed. But now wasn't the time to think about such matters. Not before a dinner party.

There came a loud knock at the door. Mrs. Campbell scurried from the kitchen to answer it. Lottie and I stood just as Reverend Wakefield and the couple entered the sitting room. I forced a smile as I looked at the woman holding her husband's arm. She was quite pretty. Her dark hair was perfectly coifed and her eyes were nearly the color of gold. She was also tall. Our physical appearances greatly contrasted with the other. Lottie must have caught me watching the woman because she gently nudged me in the ribs and my mind became present once more.

After shaking Stephen Arbuckle Sr.'s hand, Reverend Wakefield introduced the couple to us as the Randalls, Frank and Claire Randall. They weren't Scots, they were English and they were apparently in the Highlands on a second honeymoon after being separated during the war. Claire looked at Lottie and me apprehensively and stuck close to her husband's side, joining in the men's conversation. Although it could have been their years apart that kept her close to his side.

Stephen Sr. suggested that the men get drinks from his study, which was met with a hearty response. The men left, leaving Claire Randall alone with Lottie and me. Lottie offered Claire a seat, which she accepted. Lottie and I sat once more on the sofa. Initially, we sat in awkward silence. It was Lottie who broke the ice. "What is it your husband does?" she asked.

Claire smiled proudly before she said, "He accepted a post at Oxford and starts in two weeks."

"Good for him," Lottie responded. "Although, I suppose it will take some getting used to being a civilian again. Most men in the country are facing that sort of thing."

"I suppose it will take some getting used to myself. I was a nurse all that time." Claire fidgeted with her hands as she shared that piece of information. "I'm not sure I remember how to live without being in a combat tent or sleeping on a cot."

"We assisted in the medical field too," Lottie shared in return. While Lottie usually liked to share that we had attended medical school, now wasn't the time to one-up the other. We had all served and that was all that needed to be acknowledged. Lottie patted my hand. "It should all come back like riding a bicycle."

I simply nodded my head. I knew Lottie was simply making polite conversation. She had acknowledged to me in private that it wouldn't be that easy for everyone to return to their former roles.

"Forgive me if I'm intruding, but I am curious about your relation," Claire said. "Miss Arbuckle and Mrs. Arbuckle…"

"Ruthie is my sister-in-law," Lottie said gently nudging me once more.

I wasn't certain why I was acting so strange around Claire. I felt in conflict with her for some reason. I had just met her. There was no reason for me to be in conflict with her. The feeling in the pit of my stomach was like one from my childhood days when fighting over a doll at school. It seemed stupid, but I couldn't help but feel that way. Only, I wasn't entirely sure what I was fighting her for. There was nothing of hers I could see wanting.

Lottie nudged me again. I turned my head toward her and she nodded her head toward Claire with a slightly exasperated expression on her face. I cleared my throat and turned to look at Claire. "Pardon me, I'm not feeling quite myself this evening." I gently waved my hand to cool my flushing face.

"It's all right," Claire responded she paused for a moment before continuing. "I was only wondering about your husband."

"He-uh-Stephen is-uh, dead, you see," I said.

Claire's brow furrowed. "I'm terribly sorry. Was it the war?"

I licked my lips. I was never sure how much of my life to share with people, especially not a complete stranger. I cleared my throat. "He died at home," was all I managed to say, not wanting to go into complete detail.

Claire nodded her head and quickly apologized. I hoped that one day I wouldn't be quite as awkward explaining Stephen's death. Thankfully, the men returned with drinks in hand before our conversation could continue. Frank Randall came to his wife's side and offered her his arm. Stephen Sr. offered Lottie his. That left me and Reverend Wakefield. While I wanted nothing more than to walk to dinner on my own, as I did every other night, I knew that now was not the time to make a scene. So, I gently placed my hand on the reverend's arm as he led me into the dining room.

Thankfully, I was seated beside Lottie at dinner. We sat across from the Randalls. As I soon found out, Frank Randall was a historian. Part of the reason he had brought his wife to the Highlands was to learn more about one of his ancestors Jonathan Wolverton Randall, more commonly known as Black Jack Randall in the 18th century. Lottie stiffened a bit beside me at the mention of his name, but she said nothing. Frank continued to prattle-on about his ancestor. Something about the Duke of Sandringham. Even Stephen Sr. looked a bit bored on the subject but a connection with an Oxford professor was one he wouldn't pass up. Stephen Sr. was always looking for new connections to help garner more influence and eventually more wealth.

I knew it was wrong to think such terrible things about the man seated at the same table as me, but I couldn't help it. The man made it easy for one to think about such things. At least when one got to know him. At dinner in front of the Randalls and Reverend Wakefield, he was a perfectly amiable and a proper gentleman.

Frank then directed his attention toward me. "Forgive me, Mrs. Arbuckle, but I can't help but to have noticed your accent. American is it?"

I nodded my head as I took a sip of my wine.

"Where did you originate from?"

"Litchfield, Connecticut," I responded. It was odd to have his attention, but I quickly pieced together his interest...purely as a historian. So, I decided to humor him. "I'm descended from Benjamin Tallmadge, a Continental military officer, and spymaster during the American Revolution."

Frank smiled. "How fascinating. American history isn't my specialty, but if you'd like, I can find out more for you, if you'd like."

I glanced at Claire. She seemed to stiffen a bit at his offer. I sensed that she felt the same feeling with me that I felt with her. There was an uneasy undercurrent between us. While to the casual observer, we were more than cordial with each other. But we both felt it. I then looked at Frank once more. "I appreciate the offer, but thankfully, Ben wrote a memoir and so did his wife, Lydia."

Frank arched an eyebrow. "You said he was a spymaster?"

I nodded my head. "The Culper Spy ring, although Ben never really spoke of them. Lydia gave bits and pieces, at least as far as she was concerned."

"So, there is something for me to research," Frank said with a smile before he took a sip of his whisky.

He had me there. I glanced at Claire again. She gave a curt nod of blessing along with a forced smile. "I won't stop you," I responded. "Although, I'm sure America would be grateful for anything you might dig up."

Frank smiled. Claire gently patted his arm. I suspected that there were troubles in their marriage judging by how possessive Claire seemed to be. Although they had said they had been apart for five years and had only been together a grand total of ten days during that time. They were both likely different people. Claire had likely scrutinized me as much as I had done to her. Perhaps he had taken refuge in some pretty blonde's arms while they were apart and I reminded her of that fact. I didn't know. But what I did know was that she really needn't worry about me around her husband. I had sworn off men and was going to live as a widow for the rest of my days.

After we had eaten dessert, we returned to the sitting room once again while the reverend and Stephen Sr. went to fetch something from the study. Frank stood near the fireplace with an arm wrapped around his wife's shoulders. "While I have the two of you alone, I was wondering if either of you were aware of any haunts we should be interested in visiting. Something more for the locals."

"Lottie would know better than me," I offered.

Lottie nodded and looked over her shoulder. She then leaned in closer to the Randalls as she started to whisper. "If the reverend asks, you didn't hear it from me."

Frank nodded enthusiastically.

"For the Feast of Beltane, the druids will dance a top Craigh na Dun weaving through the stones with lanterns dressed in white as a predawn ritual. While it is quite pagan, it's certainly a sight to be seen. Should you go, be careful not to show yourselves."

"That sounds fascinating, doesn't it, Claire?" Frank asked his wife.

"Quite," Claire added.

Frank thanked Lottie for the information and added, "It will be our little secret." He smiled. Lottie nodded. Just then the Reverend and Stephen Sr. returned. While I was certain that the reverend was a good man, I had a feeling that Stephen Sr. was the one keeping his ministry afloat. Which then made me wonder what Stephen Sr. was getting in return. I didn't know. I just hoped the reverend hadn't waded out too far for the financial support.

An artifact behind glass windows of a cabinet caught Frank's attention. He walked over to it, squinting his eyes to see better. He then turned toward his wife. "Darling, come look at this," he said and extended his hand toward his wife.

Claire accepted his hand and looked inside with a puzzled expression on her face. Stephen Sr. stepped beside them and said, "I sponsored a dig in the Middle East years ago. A man named Beauchamp brought it back for me."

Claire's eyes widened. "You wouldn't happen to be speaking of Quentin Beauchamp, would you?"

Stephen Sr. smiled and nodded his head. "Aye, I would. Do you happen to know him, lass?"

"He was my uncle on my father's side. I went on that very dig with him. I helped him collect that for you." Claire pointed at the artifact.

I would have continued to pay closer attention to Stephen Sr.'s conversation with Claire, but Lottie started muttering to herself beside me. "Claire Beauchamp," she said to herself. Lottie's face was pale and I looked at her curiously, but she waved me off before muttering once more. "It's nothing, a mere coincidence."

I decided I would have to ask her later what she meant. Tomorrow would probably be the perfect time depending on what outing she had planned to get us out of the house. For the remainder of the Randalls and Reverend Wakefield's visit, we continued to chat. The tension remained between Claire and me, but it seemed to be at least tolerable. Although, for the life of me I couldn't understand it.

It was late when the Randalls and Reverend Wakefield took their leave. Stephen Sr. suggested that the Randalls should stop by the next time they were in Inverness. Of course, he only did this so that he could receive an invitation from them, which he did. It was an invitation he wasn't likely to pass up. I knew I shouldn't be so cynical of the man, but given my experiences with him, it couldn't be helped.

Once they were gone, I retired to my room. I had just put on my nightgown and unpinned my hair when Lottie appeared in my room. "Don't forget to set an alarm," she told me.

"An alarm? For what?" I asked.

"I meant what I said to the Randalls. The druids' dance is a spectacular sight and one I intend for you to see as well." She smiled and set the alarm clock for me before leaving my room.

If only I would have known the adventure I was about to embark on. I would have packed my bag better.

* * *

Author's Note: So...we met the Randalls. I bet that answers some questions, huh? And probably leaves some. Haha. I'll obviously try to answer most of them as I continue to write the story. Also, sorry it's been awhile. Life's been getting the better of me. Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/favorited/reviewed. It means a lot to me.

A shout out to my reviewers~~

FFN: Just a lil bit country, slow dancing in the snow, bluebell winter, Rubberduckiez, NatBBfan, Talk With Your Hands, DayStorm, Tremendously Sassy, darkwolf76, Tigerlilly3574, Jaygirl22.

AO3: janmarie, mizzmo22, jbunsick, SaraiR

The tumblr account for this fic is: ruthietallmadgefraser and my personal blog is: missjanuarylily.

Thanks for taking the time to get this far! :)


	4. A Twist in Time

It was still very dark when my alarm began to chime. My hand slowly reached out to stop the horrid clanging, but another hand reached out and did it for me. Then the light turned on. I nearly screamed seeing Lottie sitting on the chair on the other side of my bedside table. I then looked at her with a confused expression. "Did you sleep at all?" I asked her, trying to shield my face from the light.

"A bit," she stated matter-of-factly, pulling the blanket a bit tighter around her shoulders.

I knew she likely hadn't slept for very long, if at all. Back in medical school, when we had to be up earlier than normal, she would usually stay awake and read. How she could function the next day always amazed me. I required much more sleep than she did. My father would playfully tease me about such things when I was little.

"What time is it?" I asked with the blanket still shielding my face from the light.

"Time for you to get up." Lottie then pulled the blanket from my head. I squirmed, trying to bury my face in the pillow, but Lottie then took hold of my arms and tugged me into a sitting position. My expression must have been rather skeptical because without prompting she told me, "I promise it's worth the early rise."

I shivered and then rubbed my bare arms for warmth. Lottie chuckled. I was nearly always cold, especially here in Scotland. Another reason I longed for America at times. "I have a blanket in the car for you," Lottie teased with a smile.

"How long will we be out today?" I asked rather groggily. Since our first adventure to Castle Leoch, we spent most days out exploring until at least early afternoon. I anticipated today wouldn't be any different.

But Lottie played coy. "You'll just have to wait and see. Now up." She playfully smacked my arm. "Don't make me have to dress you. You know I will."

I rolled my eyes remembering that one time in medical school before I forced myself onto my feet. Lottie chuckled and then left the room. She was already fully dressed. I knelt at the edge of my bed and folded my hands in prayer like I did almost every morning. Knowing I needed to be quick about it, I prayed a prayer that my father had taught me as a little girl.

In the name of God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen. I thank Thee, my Heavenly Father, through Jesus Christ, Thy dear Son, that Thou hast kept me this night from all harm and danger; and I pray Thee to keep me this day also from sin and all evil, that all my doings and life may please Thee. For into Thy hands, I commend myself, my body and soul, and all things. Let Thy holy angel be with me, that the Wicked Foe may have no power over me. Amen

I slipped my feet into my slippers and walked over to my wardrobe. It was safe to say that blue was my favorite color given the number of articles of clothing hanging up that were colored such. It brought out my eyes. Or at least that's why I used to prefer wearing blue. I had once considered my eyes my best feature, but there really wasn't a need to be showing them off anymore.

I pulled a long-sleeved powder blue dress from a hanger and changed into it. I pulled on a pair of stockings before a knit cardigan for added warmth. I then grabbed my satchel with contained my diary and pen, Pride & Prejudice, Of Love and War, my Bible, and my Scottish Highlands history book. I didn't have any idea which book I was going to be in the mood for later, so I might as well bring them all. Although, had I known the adventure I was about to undertake, I might have packed some more useful items like extra stockings, a compass, matches, or food.

My good walking shoes were downstairs, so I made my way out of my room and found Lottie waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me. "You were serious about that blanket in the car, right?" I asked her.

She chuckled and nodded her head. "I also packed a few things to eat when we're done."

"You packed them?" I asked as I put my shoes on my feet.

Lottie nodded her head and folded her arms across her chest. "Mrs. Campbell is...busy at the moment."

I paused for a second and looked up at her in the dark, the moonlight the only light in the room. She knew me well enough to know that I was curious as to Mrs. Campbell's whereabouts. "You'll find out soon enough," Lottie whispered. "I don't want to spoil the show."

I was able to deduce that Mrs. Campbell must have something to do with what we were about to go see. Lottie then extended a hand down to me and I accepted it before she pulled me to my feet. We then quickly scampered to the automobile and were on our way to Craigh na Dun.

The ride there was a rather silent one. Truth be told, I was still much too tired to make much conversation. I must have slept for too long. I either needed less than four or more than seven to be useful. If I was woken up between four and seven hours, I was rather useless for a good while. So, I leaned my elbow against the car door and rested my head on my hand, trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep.

I somehow must have managed to fall asleep for a bit, because I awakened to Lottie shaking me. The car was parked on the side of the road. I assumed we were at Craigh na Dun, despite the fact I had never visited the place. I had been told of the standing stones before. Now that I thought about it, Stephen had wanted to visit them at Samhain, but his condition hadn't allowed for it. It then struck me that Lottie likely visited the stones with Stephen. And I realized that while Stephen hadn't been perfect, he had been a good brother to Lottie. I knew that much. I also knew that she missed her brother terribly, even though she didn't often show it. Lottie was able to mask such things and keep pushing forward. For that I envied her.

Lottie tossed a blue and green plaid woven afghan at me, knocking me out of my reverie. I wrapped the afghan around my head and shoulders, much like I imagined the women in Jesus' time would my satchel slung across my shoulder beneath the blanket. I climbed out of the vehicle and walked around to the front where Lottie stood waiting for me. I grabbed her arm and we climbed upward together.

"Tell me about when you and Stephen would come here," I said, without asking to verify that she had. The small smile on her face after I asked the question told me that my assumption was correct.

"Mother would bring us at first. Every Beltane and Samhain we would come up here to watch the druids dance. We would do a dance of our own when they were done. Oh, how it would make Mother laugh. After mother died, it was just Stephen and me, but we would still come up here whenever we were home. Last Samhain was the first time we didn't come." Her voice trembled at the last phrase.

"He wanted to go," I assured her, gently rubbing her arm in comfort. "He told me so."

Lottie chuckled derisively. "Stephen made me promise to bring you after…" her words trailed off, but I knew what she meant. After he died. Stephen hadn't died long after Samhain last year.

"We're here now and that's what matters," I said, resting my head on her shoulder for a moment.

"Stephen wasn't like my father," Lottie said to me. "He might have gotten trapped into my father's schemes, but he wasn't him. He had a lot of my mother in him. He did care about you, you know."

I sighed and patted Lottie's arm. Stephen wasn't a subject we usually broached. It was hard for both of us, both of us having such vastly different experiences with him. "I know," was all I could manage to say, but that seemed enough for Lottie for now. For that, I was thankful, especially given the circumstances that neither of us saw coming.

We made it to the top of Craigh na Dun and found our way behind a tree wide enough to shield Lottie and me. At the time, I thought it might have been a better sight to behold in the daylight. I told Lottie we would have to come back when the sun was up for a proper look. She told me we'd get a pretty good view once the dance was over and the sun was starting to rise. What I could see did look beautiful. There was a light fog that the stones seemed to come from. The stones towered over me. They stood in a ring surrounding the tallest stone in the middle of the ring.

Across the stones, I could see two shadowy figures hiding behind some alder bushes. Likely the Randalls, I mused. At that thought, the wind seemed to pick up. I held the afghan tight as the wind blew into my face so hard I could barely keep my eyes open. A few seconds later it died down. How odd. I had never known the wind to act in such a way.

"Mother would have called that the winds of change," Lottie whispered to me.

"Gaelic superstition?" I asked.

She chuckled. "More like my mother's. Mother always seemed wiser beyond her years. Like she knew some secret the universe was hiding."

I probably should have asked her more, but I didn't get the opportunity because Mrs. Graham, the reverend's housekeeper walked at the crest of the hill, carrying a white bundle in her arm. "What is she carrying?" I asked.

"Bedsheets, most likely," Lottie whispered back to me.

"Why on earth is she carrying bedsheets?" I asked.

"You'll see."

While my curiosity was piqued, I trusted Lottie that I would indeed find out. If I didn't, I would press the matter later. I might be curious by nature, but I was not impertinent about it. I let the afghan down from my head and pulled my long honey-blonde hair out from beneath, splaying it against the blanket.

Lottie gently elbowed me. "Look."

My eyes widened incredulously before I turned to look at Lottie who was giggling. It was Mrs. Campbell coming up the path, nearly out of breath. I needed to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. "Is that.." I began before Lottie interrupted.

"How else do you think my mother found out about this? Certainly, you don't think my father brought her here," Lottie teased. "Mrs. Campbell brought her when my mother was just a young lass. They were always close."

The more I learned about Lottie's mother, the more I became convinced I would have liked her. Soon, more women were coming up the path, whispering to each other. In all, there must have been fifteen women who climbed the hill carrying bundles beneath their arms.

For a few minutes, they disappeared behind the stones and bushes, but they emerged clad in white. The bedsheets. Lottie was right. The bedsheets were knotted at their shoulders and wrapped around their bodies. One by one, each of the women was given a lit torch. They then filed in a line from oldest to youngest forming a circle around the outer ring of stones.

"This is it," Lottie whispered, reaching for my arm.

The women bowed toward the stones, a signal to the start of their dance. They stepped inside the stones and lifted their torches high toward the stone in the center before they bowed low once more. They spun toward the outer ring of stones and repeated the same action. Mrs. Graham called something out in Gaelic and the other women repeated the words back to her. Then Mrs. Campbell began to sing a haunting tune, again, in Gaelic. The other women joined in bobbing and weaving, dancing through the stones.

Lottie translated the song for me. "It's Norse," she confessed. "My mother taught me the words as a lass."

The morning mist made the scene look eerily beautiful. I had never seen such a sight in my life. Although growing up, there really hadn't been time for such pagan rituals. Then the circle split in half. Seven dancers moved clockwise around the stones. The remaining eight moved the opposite direction. The circles seemed to move faster and faster and the song stopped when a mournful high-pitched wail began to resound among the stones.

I was absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of me. I understood why Lottie had recommended we come...and why she came nearly every year. As the sun began to rise, Mrs. Graham began to raise her arms along with it while the other women continued to dance and spin in circles around the stones.

The mist seemed to grow thicker, blocking the identities of the dancers, but the torches' light was still cutting through the mist. They continued to spin and spin until the sun had nearly completely broken through the darkness. Then, the women raced toward the center stone with their torches high and froze. Mrs. Graham called out something and the women lowered their torches and extinguished them. The women then began to file away.

Lottie sat down and pulled a handkerchief from her coat pocket. She unwrapped some biscuits and offered them to me. I sat down beside her and accepted one. I nibbled on the biscuit and watched as the Randalls made their way to the stones. They seemed just as amazed as I was by the scene. Frank Randall pointed up at the center stone and touched it. Claire Randall was bent down looking at something on the ground, a flower perhaps. They must have noticed one of the women coming back because they looked in the direction of the path before they quickly scurried away.

Lottie chuckled. "They needn't have worried. It's likely Mrs. Campbell giving us the go-ahead."

I pulled my afghan a little tighter. "Is it okay? Us being here, that is."

"Aye," Lottie responded after swallowing a bite of biscuit. "She's been trying to convince me to join them for years now."

"Do you think you will?"

Lottie sighed. "I want to, but I feel my motivation is wrong. Simply out of spite for my father doesn't seem a good enough reason."

"Tradition seems a good enough one," I mused. "I mean, I'm sure your mother wouldn't have exposed you to this had she not one day anticipated such a thing. You could always think of it as a way to honor your mother."

Lottie smiled at me. "Aye, I suppose I could. Hadn't thought of it that way before."

"That's what you have me for," I teased, nudging her with my elbow. She nudged me back.

Sure enough, the woman was Mrs. Campbell. She waved in our direction, dressed in normal clothes before she disappeared down the path. Lottie quickly scrambled to her feet before she held her hands out for me to grab. I accepted and Lottie pulled me to my feet. "Let's go get a better look," she suggested.

But I had a better idea. Still holding onto Lottie's hand, I pulled her along as I sprinted toward the stones holding onto my afghan, my satchel hitting my thigh with every step. I had been so lost in my own grief that I hadn't been as good of a friend to Lottie as I should have been. Now was as good a time as any to remedy that.

We stepped through the outer ring of the stones and stopped a few feet shy of the center one. "Show me," I insisted. "Show me the dance your mother taught you."

"It really wasn't much of a dance," Lottie said. "It was really more holding hands and spinning around the stones."

"Then let's do it." I reached for her other hand, which made her smile. We began to spin. I hadn't done something this silly since our days in the dormitory at medical school. We laughed. In that moment, with my dearest friend, my heart felt light and unburdened.

But then something strange began to happen. A pounding noise seemed to be emanating from the center stone. Voices whispering, but I couldn't make out any of it. Lottie and I stopped and looked at each other, wondering if the other could hear what each of us was hearing. Without saying it, we both understood the other's expression and nodded our heads, confirming that we could both hear the sound.

Lottie then looked up at the stone quizzically. "Mother?" she called out. "Mother? Is that you?" I saw her reach out her hand toward the stone.

Instinctively, I knew I had to stop her. I reached out to stop her from touching it. I slapped her hand away, knocking her out of her reverie. Lottie was knocked off her feet and to the ground. She held her ears with her hands.

I was about to back away, to try and help calm Lottie's cries for her mother, but a sudden gust of wind came from nowhere and I wasn't prepared for it. The wind pushed me forward into the stone and everything went black.

* * *

Claire held onto Frank's arm as they descended the hill. They were nearly to their car when there came a rather large gust of wind. It was so powerful that the wind knocked Claire into her husband's arms. Frank's arms wrapped tight around her. She had been in Frank's arms hundreds, maybe even thousands of times before, but this time it felt different. It felt like something had changed. It felt like things had suddenly become tethered, which hardly made sense. But that was the best she could describe the feeling. She felt tethered in two opposite directions.

Frank leaned down and kissed her. He then helped her into the car and they traveled back to Inverness.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky when Lottie awoke. Something had happened. Something crazy, but she couldn't remember what exactly. Her head was throbbing. She lifted her hand to her temple to find that it was wet. After dabbing a few times and wincing, Lottie removed her hand and held it in front of her. Blood. There was blood on her hand, meaning her head was bleeding. Head wounds always bled a lot. She glanced down to find a rock marked with blood. She had likely hit her head on that...which would also account for her momentarily memory loss.

She glanced around. She was a top Craigh na Dun. Why was she atop Craigh na Dun? The Druids' Dance for Beltane. She had brought Ruthie. Speaking of Ruthie, where was she? Knowing her friend, she should have been tending to her. Unless something worse had happened to Ruthie. Lottie slowly stood on her feet. She was rather light-headed, but she needed to find Ruthie.

Lottie slowly turned her head from side to side, trying to find Ruthie. There was no sight of her. "Ruthie!" she called out. "Ruthie!"

There was no response.

Lottie called even louder. Still, no one responded. Perhaps, Ruthie had gone to the car in search of medical supplies. It made enough sense to Lottie that she followed the path down to where she had parked the automobile. But no luck there either. Maybe, Ruthie had made her way home or gone to fetch help.

When Lottie returned home, Ruthie was nowhere to be seen. She scoured the entire house looking for her sister-in-law. But it was no use. Lottie stormed into her father's study and demanded to know if he had seen Ruthie, but he hadn't either. Not that he really seemed to care that Ruthie was missing, which frustrated Lottie even more.

Lottie then enlisted Mrs. Campbell's help. They checked everywhere they could possibly think of on the estate before making their way into town. No one seemed to have seen Ruthie. What could possibly have happened to her? They didn't have any clues and they seemed to have exhausted every resource available, except one. So they went to the police for their assistance, praying that Ruthie was still alive.

* * *

Claire had been reading up on the local flora from inside her bedroom at the inn. But she wasn't quite sure which plant she had seen atop Craigh na Dun. Frank had suggested that she go back to find it. So, she got in the automobile and made her way back.

But to her surprise, the police were blocking the path which led up to Craigh na Dun. Claire parked and got out of the car. She tried to walk toward the path when one of the police officers stopped her.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we need ye to make your way back to town."

There was a tug in Claire's stomach. It felt like there was a string attached to her, pulling her up toward the stones. Another string seemed attached toward town. But the string toward the stones seemed to be vibrating. She set her shoulders, trying to ignore the feeling in her gut. "I-I only wanted to find a flower."

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but no one's allowed up there right now. A young woman's gone missing."

"Missing?"

"Aye. It's Ruth Arbuckle who's gone missing. She was here this morning with Miss Lottie. Miss Lottie took a blow to the head and now Mistress Ruth is missing. We're taking every precaution imaginable."

There was another tug in her gut toward the stones. She needed to get up the hill. That string seemed to be vibrating furiously.

"Of course. I completely understand," Claire offered. "But please, I'm not here long. It's just a small flower I'm in search of. If I'm not back in ten minutes you can send someone after me."

"Orders are orders, ma'am. I cannot let ye atop Craigh na Dun. Perhaps ye can try again tomorrow. I'll stop by the inn and let ye know if yer able. Aye?"

There was a sudden gust of wind, and suddenly, it seemed like a string snapped. There was no longer a strong tug in her gut beckoning her toward the stones. The only string seemed to beckon her back toward Inverness. Claire sighed. "Sounds perfectly reasonable. Thank you for your time."

With that, Claire headed back to Inverness and her husband, Frank, none the wiser that there had been a twist in time. That the life that should have been hers now belonged to someone else.

* * *

Author's Note: Well, Ruthie is missing. Although, I'm sure y'all can guess what happened to her. Haha. Also, I wanted to make sure that I explained Claire a bit more. Her connection to the past has been severed and now she is only bound to the present, to Frank. That doesn't mean she won't make another appearance later, but she will be staying in her time. Thanks to everyone who has supported this story. It means a lot to me!

Special thanks for my reviewers:

FFN: Hidden Journey, letthestarssing, Snow Treasures, thelandofstoriess, Hoqwaarts, superpsychonatural, Laura201112, Talk With Your Hands, Slow Dancing in the Snow, ej101, Guest (1), NatBBfan, Awesome Sauce1998, chrisxgirlx, and yatogod1

AO3: JudyC1995, Janmarie, Mimikoflamemaker

And a special thanks to Renny Autumn for continually encouraging me with this story! :)


	5. Familiar Faces

While I had never been hit by a train before, I imagined that what I was currently feeling was pretty close. Thankfully, that awful clanging noise had stopped. I slowly opened my eyes. Everything looked normal. I reasoned I must have fainted and been out for some time because the sun was higher in the sky than I remembered it being. I forced myself into a sitting position and glanced around for Lottie. She wasn't there. That concerned me. Where was she? Where was I? I closed my eyes and forced myself to concentrate.

I knew I was atop Craigh na Dun. The stones surrounding me confirmed that much. I had traveled here with Lottie to watch the druids' dance. I remembered Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Campbell dancing in bedsheets wielding torches. It seemed silly, but I was fairly certain I hadn't imagined that. I distinctly remembered having a laugh over it with Lottie. But where was Lottie? The only thing possible I reason was that she had gone to the automobile to fetch something for me when she saw that I had fainted.

A cool breeze seemed to come out of nowhere and I tugged the afghan tighter around my shoulders. I was surprised that with the sun up, the temperature seemed to have dropped. Very odd. But perhaps it was one of those things about Scotland I just never noticed before. I didn't want Lottie worrying about me, so I forced myself to stand. I seemed to have a short case of vertigo, so I leaned against one of the stones in the outer ring. I must have hit my head or something when I fell. I reached up and tenderly felt my head. Aside from the stray grass, there seemed to be nothing amiss. I felt no gashes or blood gushing, which was a good sign. I then patted down the rest of my body to make sure I didn't have any other injuries that might have contributed to my fainting. But I found nothing. As far as I knew Tallmadges weren't prone to fainting spells nor had I ever had one in my life before that moment. That should have been my first clue. But of course, I wouldn't realize that until later.

I pulled my satchel off my shoulder and set it on the ground for a moment. Four books made the thing awfully heavy. I rubbed the shoulder the strap had been resting on, trying to offer it some small relief before I picked the bag up again and walked in the direction of the automobile. Things looked slightly different than I remembered them being, but I reasoned that climbing in the dark accounted for all the changes I thought I was seeing. Everything looked different at night. That should have been another clue. Again, I didn't realize it at the time.

When I came to the bottom of the hill, I was more confused. I looked left and then I looked right. There was no sign of Lottie or the automobile. My first thought was that she had been so concerned for my safety that she had rushed to Inverness to get help. But that didn't make sense. Lottie had gone to medical school and she would know how to treat me. She would also know not to stray far from me. Then where could she be? My next thought was that maybe there was another trail to the top of Craigh na Dun that allowed for car access, which she used to drive to the top so that I wouldn't have to walk as far to the automobile. It was the only thing I could think of that made sense.

So, I walked back to the top of Craigh na Dun. Although, the missing sign for Craigh na Dun, should have been yet another clue.

I reached the top to find a woman with brown, curly hair setting flowers down in front of the stones. She looked like she was fighting against something. I must have stepped on a twig because there was a sudden snapping noise and the woman immediately turned to look at me.

"Lottie!" I called and raced toward her, thankful to have found her. Or at least I thought I had found her. I probably should have realized from how the woman was dressed that it wasn't my Lottie. But my brain rationalized that she could have kept a spare outfit in the automobile.

The woman's bright blue eyes widened as I approached her. Blue eyes. That struck me and stopped me in my tracks about two yards from the woman. Lottie's eyes were green, not blue. This woman's hair was darker, almost black whereas Lottie's was chocolate brown. This woman was older than Lottie. I began to notice more differences. "You're not Lottie," I said.

The woman looked at me hesitantly and then her expression grew more curious. Each time I said Lottie, the woman looked like she had seen a ghost, even though it was more like I was the one seeing a ghost. This woman looked so much like Lottie. So much so that they probably could have passed for sisters with a large age gap or perhaps even cousins.

She eyed me up and down, pursing her lips. I felt self-conscious and tugged the afghan a little tighter around myself. The woman reached out almost as if to touch the woven fabric, but her hand slowly dropped, as she had thought better than to do so. She sighed and pursed her lips again.

"I-I'm sorry for disturbing you," I said, motioning toward the flowers. "I-I was just looking for my friend. You clearly aren't her, so I'll just be on my way then..." I ran my left hand through my hair in frustration. I missed the look on the woman's face at the sight of my ring.

I turned on my heel to walk away when the woman called. "Lass, wait!"

I stopped and turned toward her, my hair blowing in the gentle wind, which still seemed colder than it should have been. The woman didn't say anything more. It was then that I noticed that her clothes were absolutely nothing like mine. They didn't belong in my time unless worn by historical reenactors. Maybe after the druids' dance, there was another sort of 18th-century reenactment for the feast of Beltane. I easily recognized the clothing like that of the 18th century. I had been to many Revolutionary War reenactments with my father growing up. We were quite proud of our heritage.

"Your clothing looks very authentic to the 18th century," I offered genuinely with a small smile.

The woman's eyes widened. She glanced at the large stone in the center of the ring. The one which she had laid flowers in front of before I had interrupted her. She looked at me like she wanted to tell me something, but couldn't decide if she should or not. She fidgeted with her fingers, drumming them against her thigh.

Just then, a man, dressed as a Redcoat crested the hill. This time, the woman actually looked frightened. "Don't speak," she whispered to me before she pulled me behind her, shielding me from the man with her body. It was then that I noticed the woman was quite tall. So tall that when I stood behind her, my gaze was at her shoulders. I had to stand on my tip-toes to see the man approaching. "Good day to ye, Captain Randall," the woman said.

Captain Randall? A Redcoat? He looked remarkably like Frank Randall, the man I had been introduced to the night before. Perhaps he was another reenactor. It wouldn't surprise me since the man was a historian. On my tip-toes, I looked at him. "Mistress Campbell," the man sneered.

I was rather taken aback. While the man looked like Frank Randall, his tone was much colder and his mannerisms seemed much more calculated. He almost seemed to swagger toward us, like he was superior to us and he knew it. Nothing like the Frank Randall I had met last night. I wanted to call out to him, but before I could, he spoke again, in a tone that made me rather uncomfortable.

"My my, Mistress Campbell. What are we doing atop a faery hill on your feast of Beltane? I had heard word of druids meeting here and I find you with this young woman."

"My-my niece," she stammered.

I tried not to show my surprise at the woman calling me her niece. Why would she lie to him? Also, why had Randall called me this woman? He had met me last night. I was certain that as a historian, the man would remember who I was. Especially seeing as I was a Tallmadge. Things were starting to make less sense. I thought as you aged, you gained more wisdom, but I felt severely lacking at this moment.

Randall cocked his head to get a glance at me. He then focused on the woman once more. "That doesn't explain what you're both doing here. Are you druids, Mistress Campbell? You do know what they do to witches, don't you?"

The woman moved one of her hands backward and rested it on my arm, still covered by the afghan. "We are not, Captain Randall," she said with certainty. "This is where I lost my children...to the druids, many Beltanes ago." She then motioned with her hand toward the flowers she had laid in front of the stone.

I wasn't sure if Randall believed her or not. He glanced at the stone and then back at the woman. His expression was one of disgust. "There will be a price for this, you know," Randall said as he narrowed his eyes in our direction. "For you ought not to be here at such a time."

I felt the woman tremble for a second beneath my hands. But as quickly as it had come, so it went. She stood a little taller and slightly nodded her head. "I appreciate your discretion, sir," she said.

Randall looked past the woman, making momentary eye contact with me. I shivered. Even his eyes seemed cold. He then looked back at the woman. "Tonight should be adequate enough time for your repayment."

The woman seemed to hesitate to accept his offer, but after a moment she responded, "Thank you, sir."

"Though, there are two of you out, meaning I require two payments." His eyes flashed toward me. He leaned toward his right to get a better look at me, but the woman turned us so that he couldn't see. He leaned a little further. But again, she continued to shield me.

"I will satisfy both payments," she said quickly. Her hand grasped my arm tighter.

It was then that I knew what was meant by payment. That seemed barbaric. What kind of person was Frank Randall? How could he do such a thing to his wife? My thoughts then turned to Claire. Had she noticed something last night that I hadn't? Why would she even want to be with such a man?

Randall didn't look very pleased with the idea at first, but knowing that either way he was going to be bed twice, he agreed. "Very well then, Mistress Campbell," he said, nodding his head before making eye contact with me again. "Where are my manners? Forgive me, madam." He did a little bow and then stood straight once more. "Captain Jonathan Wolverton Randall, at your service."

The man wasn't Frank. Thank God. But I had heard that name before. Had Frank mentioned a brother last night? A cousin? He had mentioned some relation to the man, I was sure of it. But this man was abhorrent. Why would Frank want to claim such a relation? Maybe it was a long-lost one and he didn't know any better. If I managed to see Frank in town before he left, I would be sure to tell him of my introduction to this man.

"It would seem that your niece has forgotten her manners as well, Mistress Campbell," Captain Randall said.

"Mute. She's mute, Captain Randall. Please forgive her, she is unable to speak."

Now I was mute? I was concerned about why this woman was creating such an elaborate ruse on my behalf. We had never even met before. But it seemed she wanted to protect me from Captain Randall, who wanted nothing good from me. So I quickly reasoned that I might as well go along with what the woman said for now.

I looked at Captain Randall and nodded my head.

The man scoffed. "Mute? Might as well be a whore then."

The woman, who by this point I assumed was Mistress Campbell, wanted to change the subject from me, lest the captain change his mind about their agreement. "What brought you here today, Captain Randall?"

Randall seemed to straighten as if he suddenly remembered his true purpose for being there. He seemed to puff out his chest as he clasped his arms behind his back. "There has been word of cattle raids in the area. Have you heard or seen anything of the sort, Mistress Campbell?"

"Only that if it were true, I hope they stay away from mine."

Captain Randall seemed to accept that answer with ease.

"Now, if ye don't mind, Captain Randall," Mistress Campbell said. "I would like to see the lass home before she catches cold."

"Very well then," Captain Randall said gruffly. He turned to go, but stopped and looked our direction once again. "I will see you tonight, Mistress Campbell. Same place as before."

I felt my stomach drop. Same as before, meaning this wasn't the first time. The man was vile. He was simply using Mistress Campbell for his pleasure. What sort of gentleman did such a thing? I wanted to lunge at him, but Mistress Campbell held onto me tightly as he was out of earshot.

Then she turned to me quickly. "Ye did well, lass. Ye save yerself more trouble then ye know by listening to me."

It felt as if she were treating me like a child, praising me for a job well done. I was tired of people pitying me. I was a fully grown woman capable of a lot of things. Including remaining silent when told to do so. I folded my arms across my chest. I needed some answers. "Not to sound ungrateful, but what are you playing at?" I asked. "We've only just met. I'm not your niece nor am I mute."

"Listen to me, lass. Ye need to keep yer wits about ye if yer to get by. Captain Randall being the least of yer worries right now."

My brow furrowed. What could she possibly mean by that? What other worries did I have that she could possibly know about?

Like Lottie, it was almost as if the woman was able to read my mind. "I dinna wish to see ye fall into the captain's hands. So it'll be best if ye stick close to me for the time being. I canna do much to help ye should ye part from my side. I can promise ye a roof over yer head until ye sort things out."

"But Lottie…" I needed to find my friend. What if this Captain Randall stumbled across her and she made the same mistake that I did, thinking he was Frank Randall? I couldn't let him proposition her like he had Mistress Campbell. I tried to walk past the woman, but she reached out and stopped me.

"She might have made her way to my home," Mistress Campbell interrupted me. "My house is the closest place from here."

I looked up at her, but her gaze quickly shifted from mine, like she didn't wish to make eye contact with me. "Inverness, I need to get back to Inverness," I told her. "My home is in Inverness, the Arbuckle estate. Perhaps you've heard of it."

Mistress Campbell looked like she had seen another ghost. It took her a moment to compose herself, but after she did, she cleared her throat and pointed toward Inverness. "See that smoke in the distance? That's where I live. It's between here and Inverness. Come with me. It's on yer way, lass."

I couldn't argue with her there. It was on the way, but I also couldn't help but feel a little like Hansel and Gretel being led to the witch's house. But for some reason, I found myself agreeing out loud to follow her. Mistress Campbell offered me a smile and gently held onto my elbow, guiding me down the hill.

"Need to keep clear of the main road," she muttered to herself. I was fairly certain I wasn't supposed to hear that and I now wondered if I had made a big mistake. Perhaps she was going to murder me.

As we continued to walk in silence, I tried to come up with a plan to get me out of this predicament. Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure what to do. I wasn't sure if I should trust this woman or not. I wished I had gotten to know more of my surroundings the last year instead of caring for Stephen. I knew I played my part as the doting wife well, but staying in the house with him at all hours was not currently doing me any favors.

I was knocked out of my thoughts when Mistress Campbell told me to watch out for a root sticking out of the ground. What kind of killer helped their victims in such a manner? I then began to wonder if this was all a dream. Some elaborate scene I had dreamt up in my head to escape. But another rush of bitter wind told me this wasn't a dream.

"Yer probably chilled," Mistress Campbell said looking at me. "I'll see ye get a cup of tea when we get home, lass."

While I was more of a coffee person, I had learned to enjoy tea toward the end of my time in medical school. A cup of tea sounded good. Maybe it would help me clear my head. A warm drink usually did wonders for me.

True to her word, we stayed away from the main road until we came upon a quaint little home completely surrounded by trees. I doubt anyone would have seen the place unless they had been looking for it. The place couldn't have been more than a few rooms, but Mistress Campbell seemed to beam with pride at the sight of it.

"My Geordie built this place for me," Mistress Campbell told me.

"Is that your husband?" I asked her. She nodded her head. So, I asked another question. "Is he home?"

She stopped walking and looked behind her with a sad expression on her face. "Geordie is away for a time. He should return in a month or two." I must have made a face because she responded, "Dinna fash, lass." I looked her in the eyes. She should have been concerned for her own well-being, but instead, she seemed concerned for me. She patted my arm in a motherly way. Maternal concern was something I had never known, nor did I ever expect to experience. But for reasons unknown to me, it made me trust her It was almost as if we were kindred spirits.

Mistress Campbell smiled at me before she motioned for us to continue up the lane to the house. We were about halfway there when dogs came bounding toward us. "They won't hurt you," she told me.

I nodded my head. It wasn't dogs that I was scared of. Not that I'd ever admit to anyone which creature it was actually terrified me. When the dogs reached me, they jumped up on me and knocked me off me feet. I fell to the ground and landed in a puddle. Mistress Campbell tried not to laugh after she managed to pull the dogs off me.

"It's probably for the best," she said. I wasn't exactly sure what she meant. But she acted like she hadn't said it. Instead, she offered me her hand. I accepted it and stood on my feet, dripping wet. "I'm afraid I only have clothes like…" Mistress Campbell paused and gestured to herself.

I looked at her curiously. Did the Scots have an equivalent of the Amish? If they did, Mistress Campbell certainly had to be one of them. But old-fashioned clothing was better than wet clothing. "That'll be just fine," I told her.

She smiled at me, a smile that I didn't quite understand. If I had, I would have understood that smile to mean I'd be wearing old-fashioned clothing more than I thought I would. But I thought it was just a smile. So, I followed her into the house.

The house was rather dark, but there was a small fire in the hearth. Mistress Campbell lit a candle from the flame. "Follow me, lass," she said before walking into another room.

I was in awe of what I saw. Everything about this place was very old-fashioned. There was no stove, no sink, no electric lights...in America, I probably would have considered Mistress Campbell's way of living as Amish in nature. I made my way to the other room to see Mistress Campbell holding up what looked like a green dress. Although, I was about to find out that the ensemble was far more than just a dress. Some items I knew the names of shift, petticoats, stay, stomacher...but I wasn't an expert at 18th-century clothing.

Thankfully, Mistress Campbell was able to help me dress. She also talked me through what to do with each piece. It was kind of her to do so, but I didn't think I would be going to any reenactments or joining the Amish anytime soon. When I was clad in dry clothes, Mistress Campbell led me back to the main room for a cup of tea.

I sat at the rough table with my satchel at my feet while she boiled some water. I couldn't help but stare at my unfamiliar surroundings. It seemed like right out of a history book. Mistress Campbell walked out of the room but quickly came back in holding the afghan I had once been draped in. She looked at it rather fondly, running her fingers over the woven yarn.

"My friend, Lottie, the one I'm trying to get back to. Her mother made that," I offered gently.

Mistress Campbell nodded her head. She cleared her throat and handed me the afghan back, which had surprisingly not gotten wet after my tumble in the mud. Silently, she then moved to prepare our tea.

"I'm sorry it's not much," she said handing me a small cup.

"It's perfect," I offered. Truly, it was better than nothing.

We sat there in silence for several minutes sipping our tea. I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't want to engage the woman too much because I wanted to get back to Inverness today yet and I was likely going to have to walk, seeing as the woman likely didn't own an automobile. But Mistress Campbell seemed to watch me with keen interest.  
"That's a bonnie ring ye have there," Mistress Campbell said before sipping her tea again. "Did yer lad give it to ye?"

I set my cup down and looked at my left hand. I gasped. The center diamond was missing. Had I lost it atop Craigh na Dun? I wiggled my fingers and then looked back at Mistress Campbell. "My husband, Stephen gave it to me."

Mistress Campbell smiled and rested her hand over her heart. "Is he well? Your husband?"

My brow furrowed as I looked down at the ring once more. I shook my head. "Stephen died nearly six months ago."

The teacup Mistress Campbell had been holding fell to the floor and shattered. She looked very pale all of a sudden. The hand that had been holding her cup was shaking and she looked on the brink of tears. "Dead?" she barely managed to croak out. "He's dead?"

I nodded my head slowly. This woman was close enough to Inverness that she should have heard of Stephen's passing. I knew how quickly word spread through the Scottish Highlands.

Tears began to slip down the woman's cheeks and she began to fan her face with her hand. "If ye'll excuse me, lass. I need a moment.." She then picked up her skirts and ran from the room, leaving me sitting there.

I felt terrible. Mostly because this woman, whom I had never met was reacting more to Stephen's death than I did. Did that make me a terrible person? Truthfully, I cried my tears when he was alive. His passing had been more of a relief.

I could hear Mistress Campbell crying from the other room. I hated when other people, who couldn't help me, heard me cry. So, I decided to leave the house for a few minutes to give Mistress Campbell some privacy. I would then come back, thank her for her kindness, and be on my way to Inverness. I grabbed the afghan for some warmth and left the house.

I followed a path that went east of the house. I walked for some time. I enjoyed walking. I could use the exercise and Mistress Campbell could use the privacy. I came to a stop when I found myself in some sort of pasture with cows. Did they call where I currently standing a pasture in Scotland too? Sometimes, it felt like I spoke a completely different language.

The wind started to blow again as it had atop Craigh na Dun. I pulled the afghan tighter. What was with this wind? _The winds of change_ Lottie had said. I slightly scoffed at the idea.

I stood in the middle of the pasture looking at my surroundings. In the distance, I saw more Redcoat soldiers. One of them was driving a horse and cart. I thought of Captain Randall and shuddered. He was a horrible man. I didn't understand how one could be so horrid following the war. It was almost as if he had never lived through it.

I stopped in my tracks and threw my hands over my mouth in complete and utter shock.

Jonathan Wolverton Randall hadn't lived through the war. He had lived 200 years before the war. The reason Frank and Claire Randall were visiting Inverness was to find out information about him. Then suddenly everything started to make sense. The Redcoats. Randall's attitude toward women. The clothes. No electricity. No Lottie. Oh, God. That couldn't be possible. Could it? It seemed impossible, but it was the most rational thing I could come up with: I was somehow in the 18th century.

And then it dawned on me that if this was truly the 18th century, Mistress Campbell was not nearly as startled by my modern appearance as she should have been.

* * *

Author's Note: Next chapter, my people. Next chapter we will finally meet the person y'all have been waiting for! Also, I am attempting NaNoWriMo this year...for this story. So hopefully I can get quite a few updates out this month. We shall see if I can keep up with it though. :) While this will be the third weekend in a row that I've updated *gasp* I know for sure I won't next weekend. I'm taking a little trip about 2,000 miles away. Haha. If this NaNoWriMo thing goes well, I'll aim for Thursday to get another update out. But like I said, it's gonna depend on NaNoWriMo goes. :)

A big shoutout to those who reviewed

FFN: Waiting for the Lights, Laura201112, Hoqwaarts, Letthestarssing, You'vegotmail24, ej101, Snow Treasure, A-Song-Of-Quill-and-Feather, Talk With Your Hands, chrisxgirlx, Slow Dancing in the Snow, Nixdragon, Wayward Jules, superpsychonatural, DayStorm, TwilightEclps, and Awesome Sauce1998

AO3: JanMarie

Also, thank you to Renny Autumn for her continued support and constantly reading over chapters for me to make sure that they make sense. She's the best. This story wouldn't be here without her.


	6. Of Lassies and Cows

The 18th century. How had I ended up in the 18th century? As I began the trek back to Mistress Campbell's house, I tried to play out in my head my last moments back in my time. Lottie and I had danced at the stones. Then, there was a clanging noise...and voices. Lottie reached out for the stones but I swatted her hand away. And then I fell toward the stone. I don't remember the pain of colliding with the stone. Instead, I found myself waking up atop Craigh na Dun, lying on my back.

I stopped for a second to catch my breath and ran my fingers through my messy golden waves. Truthfully, I had always wanted to live during the 18th century. I was utterly fascinated by the stories of Ben and Lydia. But then more questions plagued me. What year was it? Perhaps I was wrong about it being the 18th century. Maybe it was the 17th. I knew nothing about Scotland's history except what I had read in the book Lottie gave me or what Frank Randall had prattled on about at dinner last night. Had it really only been last night? One thing was certain I could be easily mistaken when it was. I simply made an assumption based on what I knew. Even if I was right, a century was a long time, a hundred years worth of history. Well, it would be history for me. These people were currently living it.

My thoughts returned to Mistress Campbell. Why hadn't she been more surprised to see me? If this was truly the past, then my outfit should have shocked her. Now that I thought about it, her reaction seemed more like one recognizing something they hadn't seen in a long time. My undergarments alone would have sent her running for the hills. Instead, she had said nothing and helped me into a shift. I then realized why she placed herself between me and Captain Randall. If he thought that being mute made me a whore, my modern outfit, which was quite modest for my time, was not suitable for this time...whatever time it was.

I exhaled slowly before taking in another deep breath. I thought I was handling this rather well, all things considered. I mean, how often did one fall back in time? (It was only later I would realize it happened more often than I thought.) I probably should have been more terrified. I should probably be fleeing back toward Craigh na Dun. But I wasn't. I knew that women were not always treated with the respect they deserved. And yet, the fires of adventure within me had been flamed. I had spent the last few years trapped. Besides Lottie, I had no one back home. Everything I owned belonged to Stephen Arbuckle Sr. I had wanted another chance at life and I was being given one. A certainly unexpected chance, but a chance nonetheless. Besides, if I found my sense of adventuring severely waning, I could always head back to the stones again. But for now, I had other concerns. Mistress Campbell being my top priority.

I smiled. A genuine smile too. When was the last time I had been this excited for something? I didn't know. I probably sounded crazy, but I couldn't help but hope that I'd be able to meet Ben and Lydia Tallmadge while I was here. Of course, if they were alive, they'd be across the Atlantic Ocean which would require me to make a rather difficult passage. But I was a Tallmadge. We had strong constitutions in our favor.

The wind began to blow again. What was with this crazy wind? It blew the afghan off my shoulders. I chased after the afghan through the tall grass, which rustled against my long skirts. These clothes were not nearly as easy to run in as my modern clothing. But I was sure that with practice it would get easier. I hoisted my skirts a little so I wouldn't trip over them and I continued to run. I couldn't help but laugh freely as I ran. I had imagined Lydia doing this very thing many, many times and now I was finally experiencing it myself.

Finally, the afghan seemed to stop running from me and I was able to bend down to pick it up. As I stood straight, I saw the oddest sight. I saw a cow being led into the trees with plaid fabric billowing behind its derriere. I cocked my head, trying to understand what I had just seen. I was just going to have to check the scene out for myself. I took a few steps in that direction when something snapped to my right. I spun in that direction, not prepared for what I saw, Captain Randall.

He stood there rather smugly with his arms folded across his chest. He was sizing me up like a piece of meat and I didn't like that feeling. I quickly looked around to see if there was anyone else nearby, but we were alone. Perhaps if I screamed, Mistress Campbell might come to my aid, but then I remembered that to the captain I was mute. I supposed I should find some small comfort in the fact that I was at least dressed appropriately for this time period.

Randall reached out and tugged one of my blonde locks. I instinctively backed away from him, but his hand snaked behind my neck and pulled me against him. I struggled to get free and his grip tightened. "Now, now," he hissed. "I do believe we haven't been properly introduced. Ruth is it? That is what you told Mistress Campbell, is it not?"

My eyes widened. His expression would hardly qualify as a smile considering how smug and cruel it was. "Yeah, that's right. I heard you. Not mute after all, are you?"

I tried to push him away, but he held on tighter.

"And that accent isn't one from around these parts," he continued. "Where exactly are you from?"

Damn my bloody American accent. It was always getting me into trouble. But it wasn't like I could tell him where I was from. The country didn't even exist yet. My breath hitched momentarily, the words wouldn't come out.

"Well? I'm waiting…" His grip around my throat tightened.

"The colonies," I gasped as he began to apply more pressure with his thumb, almost crushing my windpipe.

Given his expression, I wasn't sure if he believed me. But he patted my cheek and I was able to take a good breath. "Good girl," he said, but I knew the words weren't meant in praise. They were because I had done as he said. "But if I find out you're lying there will be worse things coming. Now, why would Mistress Campbell lie for you?"

To protect me from you, I thought but didn't express the words out loud. He ran his thumb over my lips. I tried to keep my lips clamped together, but his thumb broke through. "Don't bite," he hissed as his thumb traced my cheek, leaving a dirty taste in my mouth. I wanted to spit after he removed his thumb from my mouth, but that would likely only make matters worse. I needed to lull him into a false sense of ease and then make a break for it. I needed to calm myself.

Randall narrowed his eyes at me. "Perhaps you are a druid. A witch. In which case, that makes you a whore."

I lifted my left hand, trying to show him my ring. While Stephen was dead in my time. I doubt he could have heard my confession inside Mistress Campbell's house. Everything he had mentioned so far, I had told her on our journey to her home.

But my attempt only made Randall laugh. He then pulled me closer to him and whispered in my ear. The warmth of his breath made me uncomfortable. "Being married doesn't mean you aren't a whore. Now, if you'd like to avoid being burned at the stake, druid, give me what I want. Payment must be made."

I didn't have to be told what he wanted. It was quite obvious. He wanted from me what he was expecting from Mistress Campbell. For a moment, I stopped struggling to let him think that I had given up, that I was going to give him what he wanted. He pulled his face away from my ear and grinned at me. It was a horrid expression, a sight I wished I could unsee.

He lifted my trembling chin with one finger, forcing me to look him in the eyes. His expression was icy lust. I had never seen such a combination in my life and I didn't like that it was directed at me. I slowly lifted my skirts as he leaned in to force his lips upon me. I then struck him hard in the groin with my knee, causing him to double over, giving me a chance to flee.

I had bested Randall this time. There was no hope of me doing it again. I sprinted as fast as I possibly could toward the trees, holding my skirts as high as I could. Perhaps I might be able to climb one and lose him. I knew better than to look back. It would only slow me down.

Randall began shouting at me. I heard a string of profanities and the word whore several times. I felt my heart rise to my throat, but I refused to look back. That was exactly what he wanted me to do. I finally reached the trees. I didn't want to lead Randall directly to Mistress Campbell. After the kindness she had shown me, that didn't seem right. So I weaved in and out between the trees, changing my course every now and then. Or at least I did until a strong pair of arms reached out and snatched me.

I wanted to scream, but a hand clasped over my mouth, which was probably a good thing because I didn't want to give Randall the satisfaction of hearing my screams. I waited for my skirts to be hoisted, but instead, an unfamiliar voice whispered above me. "I dinna mean you harm, lass." The accent was Scottish, not English.

With the large hand still over my mouth, I tilted my head back against his chest to get a better look. His blue eyes were the first thing I saw. Then his red hair. And then how tall he was. My God, he towered over me probably at least by a good foot. He removed the arm from around my waist and slowly raised a finger to his mouth, motioning me to be quiet.

I found myself nodding my head at my savior's directions. He then removed his hand from my mouth. "This way, lass," he whispered motioning for me to follow him. For all I knew, he could have been an even worse scoundrel than Captain Randall, but there was something about him that told me otherwise. For reasons I didn't understand, I found myself trusting him. Despite not knowing this strange man, I followed after him.

I wasn't sure where he was leading me. All that mattered was that I was being led away from Randall and given by the captain's taunts coming from the opposite direction, I was assured that much. As I ran behind my savior, I finally got a good look at him from behind. I was right about him being tall. My father had been tall, but this man probably had an inch or two on him. He was also dressed in a kilt and a dirty white shirt. He was toting a pistol, a large sword, and some sort of knife. Those were the weapons I could see, he likely had others. The man perfectly fit the history book's description of a Highland warrior. And yet for some reason, he looked vaguely familiar. But understanding that wasn't a priority while I was fleeing for my life.

The man came to a stop and held his hand up to motion me to do the same. For a moment, I was confused about why he was talking to a tree. But when I looked closer, I saw two animals beneath the large branches, a cow and a horse. The horse willingly came out of hiding. The cow did not. The man gently patted the horse and I instinctively backed up against a different tree. I hated horses. Always had.

The man then turned toward me offering me his hand. "On the horse, lass," he said to me.

I shook my head.

He looked at me rather incredulously. "Would ye rather Randall catch ye then?"

"No," I stammered.

"Then on the horse with ye."

I looked at the cow. I would much rather ride it than ever go near a horse. Was riding the cow an option? Of all the things to fear, I knew horses wouldn't be on the top of most people's lists; but they were on mine. I then remembered something about Highlanders. They would often steal cattle and such for sport. I then looked at the man, who looked a bit frustrated with me. "That's not your cow, is it?" I asked him.

"No," he answered me, his tone clearly annoyed. His eyes narrowed at me before he glanced back at the horse, then back to me. His expression slightly softened. "I'll no let harm come to ye, lass," he said.

While I believed his words, that didn't make me trust the beast he wished me to mount. I said nothing.

He sighed. "If ye don't come, I'll have to throw ye over my shoulder and do it myself, yer just a wee thing."

I closed my eyes and inhaled. I was jittery, bouncing my leg and my heart was racing. Also, I hated being called small. I was always teased as a child. But I suppose compared to the man, I was wee. I then looked at the horse. "It's not so much don't as it is can't," I tried to explain to him.

He looked at me, probably taken aback from my accent. I had a feeling that I was going to stand out like a sore thumb with my accent.

Suddenly, the sound of a different horse squealing in the distance forced him to make the choice for me. He reached across the divide and, true to his word, threw me across his shoulder with great ease before he scurried back to his horse. He placed me gently as he could atop the beast. I seemed to freeze the second I sat down, my heart began racing with panic. I could handle a lot of things, but being on a horse wasn't one of them. Before I could jump down, the man mounted the beast behind me before tightly wrapping an arm around my waist. "Hold tight," he said.

I wasn't entirely sure what to hold onto, but there was no way I would be holding onto the creature we were atop. Instead, I clamped one hand onto the arm he had around my waist and my other hand tightly held onto his thigh. I also leaned against him as much as I could. If he was uncomfortable with what I was doing he didn't say so as we raced through the woods, leaving the cow behind.

I kept my eyes closed as the horse galloped the path the man directed. I felt the man shift beneath my death grip, like he was craning his neck to look around me...not that he needed to with the height difference and my current position. I opened my eyes for a moment to see him looking ahead before he looked down at me. I quickly shut my eyes again and he chuckled. I was almost certain the man knew my biggest weakness: horses. And I wasn't so sure that was a good thing, especially for whatever time period we were currently in.

A gunshot rang out. No doubt it was Randall. I clamped down even harder on my savior. He grunted a bit but didn't ask me to stop. "Stay as low as you can, lass," he whispered to me, leaning us both forward before encouraging the horse to go faster. I didn't want to go faster, but this man seemed to know what he was doing. I would have to trust him. But it wasn't like I had much of a choice. It was either trust him or be left to Randall's mercy. So, it wasn't so much of a choice as it was a necessity. I had to trust him. My life depended on it.

Thankfully, the man seemed to know where he was going because I had no idea. I didn't know which direction the stones were nor which direction lay Inverness. I was purely at the mercy of this rugged Scottish Highlander.

After a time, he eased up on the horse and we began to go a little slower. I heard the sound of rushing water. I assumed that we must be approaching some sort of river or stream. I opened my eyes once more when we broke through a line of trees and entered into a small valley. By the water's edge, I saw another man atop his horse. This man was also dressed in a kilt, but his hair was covered by a bonnet. I couldn't see his expression, but his posture atop his horse looked rather rigid.

I quickly tensed. Perhaps it had been a mistake to trust this man. Surprisingly, the man whispered to me, "I told ye, I'll no harm ye. I gave ye my word and I'll no go back on it. He'll no harm ye. Not so long as I'm wi ye."

Something in his tone made me believe him. But I couldn't help but wonder what would happen to me if he wasn't with me. Would they behave as Captain Randall had? While I trusted this strange man had honest intentions toward me, I couldn't help but wonder why he helped me in the first place. "Why? Why help me?" I asked, still clinging to him.

He was silent for a moment before he answered. "I've never seen a wee lassie go head to head wi Randall like that. He'll no soon forget it."

That probably didn't bode well for me, but there wasn't really anything I could do about it now. I then asked, "You know Randall then?"

"Aye." He sounded rather terse. It made me certain that there was some history between the two men. While I did want to know that history, I wasn't going to pry. Who told a stranger their life story? Besides, it wasn't like I wanted to be as open with him about my past.

"Let me do the talking," the man told me as we approached the other man.

The other man looked as stern as his posture was rigid. I rationalized that it didn't make sense for my savior to offer me up like meat to this man when he had just saved from me from another man, but that didn't stop the possibility from entering my mind. The angry-looking man said some words in a language I didn't understand, his tone was harsh. I assumed the language they were using was Gaelic. I knew Lottie could understand a bit of the language, but as an American, I had never needed to learn Gaelic. Stephen had offered to teach me a bit once when we first started seeing each other, but he was only trying to impress me.

"Randall," the man I still clung to answered in English.

But that one word seemed enough to appease the other man to nod. Although the other man's gaze toward me still wasn't very welcoming. After a moment of silence, he said another string of words in Gaelic, pointing in my direction. They didn't sound pleasant.

My savior, whose name I still didn't know, spoke words back to him in Gaelic. The two men went back and forth, seemingly in an argument over me, I assumed. I felt rather uncomfortable being talked about, despite not having a clue in what light my character was being shed. Thankfully, I was at least dressed in time-appropriate clothing and didn't have that against me. There was also probably a reason, he told me to let him do all the talking. My accent would give me away...again. It seemed insane to trust a stranger to this degree, but I did and I didn't understand why.

For a moment, the men stopped speaking. There was obvious tension between the two. I couldn't help but feel that I was the cause of it and that didn't sit well with me. Perhaps leaving would be better for all involved. We had to be far enough away where Captain Randall couldn't stumble across me again. Besides, I would have accepted any excuse to dismount the beast I rode. I didn't trust it and if I was being honest with myself, it still scared me. But I had my reasons.

I then turned toward the man behind me. "I appreciate your help but I think I can handle things from here."

I purposely did not look at the other man because I didn't want to see his expression at hearing my accent. I wasn't entirely sure how to get down. I somehow managed to maneuver my left leg to the same side as my right leg with all those petticoats. I looked down and took a deep breath, but just before I could bring myself to jump another shot rang out.

Shock filled me as I looked to the man beside me. He hardly looked worried. In fact, he seemed to have a rather teasing expression on his face. "Are ye sure of that, lass?"

I somehow managed to shake my head to which he responded with a nod of his. Quickly, he helped me situated myself so that I sat properly atop the horse. Although given the look the other man gave us, I was certain I was showing much more leg than was appropriate for a woman of this time.

There was another shot.

"Jamie!" the other man hissed who was already several yards ahead of us.

My savior, whose name I now assumed was Jamie, leaned forward against me and urged the horse to fly. Or at least it seemed like flying. I still clung tightly to the man. Probably more than was appropriate for a woman not married to him in this time period. But to me, this was life and death and if it meant holding onto a handsome man to survive, then I would do it. Despite the fact that I was terrified and we were being chased, I couldn't help but think that Lottie would be teasing me about my luck in finding this man.

I turned my head to get a glimpse behind us over the man's shoulder. I couldn't see anything and I prayed that we wouldn't see anything, any time soon. I was about to turn my head again when I inhaled deeply. While it was obvious that this man hadn't bathed in some time, there was a certain scent about him that I liked. Surely, I couldn't find the scent of an unwashed man appealing.

The sound of another gunshot resounded in the air, but this time it seemed farther away.

We didn't stop for quite some time. At some point during our journey, it started raining. No one spoke, I was hungry, and I was scared. I probably should have been terrified to death. Instead, I felt like new life had been breathed into me. I was exhilarated, a feeling I hardly even recognized. I was a little uneasy about knowing nothing of my surroundings nor the people with whom I traveled, but my sense of adventure had been fanned to flame again.

When we finally did stop, darkness had fallen. I hadn't a clue where we were. We could have traveled in circles for hours and I wouldn't have noticed the difference. What I could see was some sort of building by the light of the moon and more horses, but that was it. I assumed the horses meant more men, which was just what I needed. I hoped this man, likely called Jamie, would keep his promise to me.

Another man approached us from behind. Jamie, I think, seemed happy to see him. It was hard to see this new man by only the moon's light, but when he stopped his horse next to us, I could smell him. Suddenly, Jamie didn't smell bad at all in comparison.

I could tell the other man was looking at me. I pulled the afghan tighter, trying to shield myself from scrutinizing me. Not that it was going to stop him. I made eye contact with him in the darkness for a second before he shook his head. "Ye go for a cow and come back wi a lassie?"

"Should've kept the cow. Would've been less trouble," the angry-looking man scoffed. "Thinking between yer legs there, aye Jamie?"

Chuckles erupted from the darkness. While I couldn't see who else was there, I at least knew we weren't as alone as I thought. Thankfully no one could see me blush. I hadn't yet doubted Jamie's intentions toward me in that regard, but the thought was now there. Especially given what I knew about women in this time period and their rights, or lack thereof. The other voices didn't help matters.

"What are we going to do wi her?"

"When do we get a turn, Jamie?"

Their words seemed in jest, especially compared to Randall's; but I didn't know these men, so I could hardly know for sure. The men then switched over to Gaelic. I wondered if their words were cruder now. Jamie then nudged my back. "We'll be staying for a time, lass," he whispered to me.

"Here? But won't Randall still be after us?" I asked him.

"Aye," he responded rather grimly. "But I'm afraid one of the men has taken a bullet. He needs tending to and then we'll be off again. Randall willna make it far in the dark. Still, it's best we hurry."

"What about me?" I asked.

"We'll talk inside where it's dry."

I looked down at the ground hesitantly. Jamie must have noticed how utterly terrible I was at this horse thing. While he didn't say so, he whispered to me the steps to dismount. I was thankful he wasn't loud enough for the other men to hear.

Once I was on the ground again, I didn't realize that there was mud beneath me. I slipped and as I fell to the ground, I squealed. That must have spooked the horse because it bucked, knocking Jamie off. I was flat on my back in the mud and watched as Jamie seemed to fall in slow motion. He landed on top of me, knocking the air from me; but he hit the ground with his hand before he hit me. I heard a snapping noise and Jamie shout in pain. My scream became muffled by the large man on top of me.

Despite being in pain, I was thankful Jamie quickly rolled off me as I struggled to catch my breath. For a moment, I couldn't help but think this was a rather pathetic way to die; but soon my breath returned. Jamie lay still beside me. The men were not quick to rush to his aid. I beat them to it. I somehow managed to crawl through the mud to his side, still breathing rather erratically.

"Where does it hurt," I asked.

"Shoulder," he said through gritted teeth as he forced himself into a sitting position. I could tell that he was trying to push through the pain. Why did men always do that? They tried to make it seem like nothing was wrong even when they knew otherwise

"Let me see," I said gently, my tone was more of a question. I waited for his approval, which he gave in the form of a nod before he let me push aside his shirt. While there wasn't much light to see, it wasn't hard to miss that his arm was not properly in the socket. "It's out of joint," I told him.

I had seen plenty of that type of injury before. When I was younger, I had watched my father set them properly. Then, when I was older I helped him. At medical school, I was the first one to volunteer to fix such an injury. It wasn't a very difficult injury to fix, but it did cause momentarily more pain to the injured.

By this time, the men were at his side and lifted him to his feet. They dragged him toward the small house before us. No one helped me to my feet. I had to stand on my own. But once I did, I followed them into the house to help determine my fate.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, it's finally happened. Jamie and Ruthie have met. Please keep in mind that Ruthie actually went back through the stones right at sunrise whereas Claire went back later, hence the bit of a time change. Also, someday, the cow thing will become an inside joke between Ruthie & Jamie. I shoulda taken the cow-of course teasingly. Haha.**

**Thank you to those of you who have stuck with me so far and finally made it to some Jamie.**

**Shoutout to my reviewers:**

**FFN**: mrs Tall Blonde and Dead, Awesome Sauce 1998, RubberDuckiez, Hoqwaarts, Guest, WritetoEscapeReality1309, darkwolf76, SlowDancingInTheSnow, NatBBfan, DayStorm

**AO3**: Janmarie, Marijana, slowdancinginthesnow (thanks for putting them on both platforms)


	7. Finding Warmth

The wind seemed to blow the door shut behind me after I entered the small house. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the light given from a small hearth fire. I quickly realized that I was the only woman in the room. An American woman from the future with a bunch of rugged Scottish Highlanders from what I assumed was the 18th century. I paused for a moment remembering what Lottie told me about the Highlander way of life. It was stamped out by the British after Culloden. I was fairly certain it happened at some point during the 1740s. Meaning that whatever time it was, it was before Culloden. So, the 18th century likely wasn't a terrible guess. I would need to consult my book to be certain.

My heart sank. My book on the Scottish Highlands was in my satchel and my satchel was still at Mistress Campbell's place. The only worldly possessions I truly care about were there and I had no idea where there was. Eventually, I would need to make my way back there but now was not the time. It was now dark and I would likely die a gruesome death in the wilderness before even making it to Mistress Campbell's. No, my best bet was to stay...for now.

The man Jamie and I had met at the river seemed to be glaring daggers at me from his spot near the hearth. One of the men called him. Dougal. He responded to it, leaving me to assume that was his name. At least I could finally put a name to the face that didn't seem particularly fond of me.

It was then I noticed two men seated near the fire. One of them being Jamie, my savior. I could see his shoulder injury better with the light from the fire. It looked rather gruesome, but I could fix it. I had been trained to do such things. These men had not. One of which looked like they were about to break Jamie's arm to put it back into place.

"Wait! Don't do that!" I called to the man with Jamie's arm in his hand. All the men in the room stopped to look at me. I swallowed hard. I was going to have to explain why I was stopping them. "You'll break his arm if you do it like that."

Jamie looked at the man and gently nudged his shoulder away a bit before looking back at me. The other men didn't look quite convinced. I was going to have to explain how I knew that. I couldn't rightly come out and tell them I was almost a doctor. It was barely believable in my time, so it would be impossible in this one. "My father had a degree in medicine, a doctor. I-I helped him. Many times with injuries such as this one."

I made eye contact with Jamie. "Let me help," I said. It was more of a statement than a question, but I waited for Jamie's approval. It was his arm, so it was his say, I mused. "I owe you," I added, hoping it would help his decision-making process. Although, I owed him for saving my life from Randall and then again for being the reason his shoulder was in this state because I spooked the horse.

It felt like I waited forever for his answer, but finally, he gave a small nod. I quickly approached him while the men that stood around him backed away. I stood in front of Jamie and took hold of his arm, examining the injury once more in the light. His skin was very warm, which surprised me. I wasn't expecting him to be so warm, but thankfully he didn't seem feverish. "I suppose I ought to apologize for causing your condition," I whispered to him without making eye contact, instead I focused on the strong muscles in his arm.

"Ach, no," Jamie said rather quietly. He then quirked an eyebrow, his face still marred with an expression of pain. "Unless ye did it on purpose."

"And risk my own life in the process?" I retorted, raising my own eyebrow back at him, completely forgetting it wasn't just the two of us in the room and that we were surrounded by nearly a dozen men.

His mouth twitched to nearly a smile through the pain. "Ye slipped in the mud. My own fault. I shouldna ha' let ye off there."

I scoffed slightly before looking at him. I smiled and shook my head. I needed to just get on with it. He was in pain, he didn't need me talking his ear off before it was fixed. I had a job to do. I licked my lips before giving him a final diagnosis. "I need to get your arm back into joint, but first I need to get the angle of your bone just right. For a while, it will hurt worse than it does now. But once everything is back into place you should feel some relief. Do you understand?"

"Aye," he said through gritted teeth, giving a slight nod of his head.

I pulled his wrist up and his elbow in. Then I exhaled slowly. "This is the worst part," I told him, cupping his elbow.

Again, his mouth twitched in what would have been a smile had he not been in pain. "It canna hurt much worse than it does. Get on wi' it."

It was obvious he was a brave man and sometimes bravery made men stupid. I had seen it many times during the war years. But now, I had just told Jamie it was going to hurt worse, but he had just decided to shoulder through it. Although, being surrounded by a group of rugged men didn't help matters. I couldn't help but wonder if his brave demeanor was more for him or them.

Thankfully, the injury was still rather fresh and the muscles hadn't had much time to swell. Had they had time to swell, it would have made my job much harder. Nearly impossible for someone my size if it had gotten that bad and typically men always let it get that bad. Stubborn creatures men are.

I whipped Jamie's elbow upward. His shoulder gave a soft crunching sound and then the joint was back in place. I smiled at my handiwork, not realizing that I was still holding onto him. Jamie too smiled, in amazement. Using his good hand, he explored the area where his shoulder had been out of joint. He then looked at me and smiled, a genuine smile. It was infectious. I found myself smiling along with him. I couldn't help it.

Jamie then looked down at my hands which were still on him. I blushed and quickly removed my hands from him.

"It doesna hurt anymore!" Jamie grinned in delight. He then reached up and grabbed my hand. He squeezed my hand and I found myself squeezing back. "Thank you. Truly," he said.

"You're welcome," I responded as the warmth from his hand seemed to permeate my cold ones. God, he was warm. Although, given the fact that I was always cold likely made him seem warmer to me. But I appreciated his warmth nonetheless.

Dougal cleared his throat behind us. I then slipped my hand from Jamie's and folded my arms across my chest. "It will be tender for a few days yet. Don't extend the joint for two or three days and when you do start using it again, go very slowly. If it hurts, even a little, stop what you're doing or you can injure yourself and we'll have to do this all over again. You'll also need to put warm compresses on it daily."

He nodded his head.

"You'll want a sling for that arm as well to keep it immobilized."

Jamie seemed to stare at me like he wasn't sure what I was saying.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. I had forgotten that my vernacular wasn't always going to match up with the 18th century. Thankfully, I could at least pass it off as me being from across the ocean which was essentially the truth. "You need a piece of cloth," I said holding my hands out to gesture the length. "Or a belt to tie around you to keep your arm still so that you don't hurt your shoulder again." I gestured how one's arm should look in a sling and gestured toward my shoulder with my other hand.

This time Jamie nodded. He understood what I was saying, but I wasn't so sure that he liked what I was saying. Men usually never did like medical advice, whether the doctor was a woman or not.

I put my hands on my hips. If Jamie had understood me, I was certain that the other men did. Why was no one assisting? "Well?" I asked turning toward the other men. "Does anyone have something to offer?" I had learned long ago that men, even in my time, did not like being directed by a woman; but if you made it seem like it was their choice they were more likely to help. Sure, it was manipulative, but I knew what I and my patient needed.

A man with dark hair tied back offered a belt toward me. "Thank you..." I paused for a moment not knowing his name. My brow furrowed a bit, but I just repeated the thank you again before snatching the belt from him. I then began to tie the belt around Jamie to immobilize his arm.

"Thank ye, Murtagh," Jamie said. The man who had given the belt nodded.

I was slowly beginning to figure out the names of the men around me. Part of me wondered if Jamie had done that on purpose. Already, I was finding that this man was rather perceptive. I had never met a man quite so perceptive from the get-go, except my own father of course. I smiled as I thought of my father. He had truly been a special man and I missed him. But even if I were in my own time, he wouldn't be there.

After the belt was tied, I stepped back with my hands on my hips looking at Jamie. "There," I said. "That should do for now."

Jamie nodded his head and smiled at me again. I smiled again. Again, it seemed to be a natural reflex of mine when I saw him smile. He opened his mouth to say something when the man behind me howled in pain. I quickly turned around and pushed the hovering men out of the way. The man was holding near his knee. I gently moved the man's hand to get a glance at the injury.

"You were shot, right?" I asked him.

The man nodded his head, clearing trying to put on a brave face despite any pain. It looked like the bullet had just grazed the man's leg. In my time, such an injury wasn't as serious as others. But at this time, especially given sanitation methods, it could be challenging.

Dougal then responded. "Ye seem to have some skill healing. Can ye stanch the lad's wound well enough for him to sit a horse?" While his words seemed kind enough, his tone was skeptical, as if the fact I knew how to put a shoulder back into the joint was a fluke.

I stood as tall as my small frame would allow and told Dougal, "Yes, I can perform a simple task of dressing a wound." I paused for a moment. "Of course, the proper essentials would be required to keep the wound from becoming infected."

Nope. Infected wasn't the proper term. Thankfully, I was a keen student in medical school. "...or rather, inflamed." I folded my arms across my chest. "We wouldn't want to make things worse, now would we."

Dougal seemed to ponder my words for a moment. I wasn't normally this defiant, but I knew men like this. Again, I needed to make it seem like he was the one making the choice, not me. Finally, he nodded his head. "What do ye need, lass?" he asked.

The other reason I had spoken to Dougal in such terms was to give me time to think. Thankfully I had assumed right he would need a moment to consider my words, giving me time to figure out what sort of items I would need in such a primitive setting. "Alcohol, for starters," I said.

Several of the men were quick to hand me flasks. I accepted the one from the man Jamie called Murtagh mostly because he seemed the nicest thus far. He had teased Jamie and helped him. While he said anything to me personally, I could already sense there was at least a warmth toward Jamie and I hoped that if Jamie was to keep his promise to me, that Murtagh would be quick to follow after Jamie in that way.

I needed fresh bandages. I highly doubted the men carried sterilized bandages on them. The next best thing was clean cloth and given by the smell of these men, I assumed their clothes were not clean either. I looked around the cabin and saw a rope drawn across the room with something draped over it. "Is that laundry clean?" I asked, pointing behind the men.

"Aye," a startled woman said from the corner, cowering. I hadn't realized she was there. So, I wasn't the only woman in the room after all. And clearly, she hadn't wanted these men in her home.

One of the men walked across the room and snatched a petticoat from the line. They tossed it to me. "Sorry about this," I muttered to myself before I ripped the petticoat into strips. I poured some alcohol onto the strip of cloth and pressed it against the man's leg. He hissed and winced in pain.

"Easy there, Rupert," Jamie said from behind me.

"If we don't clean it," I tried to explain to the man. "The wound will become inflamed and if gangrene sets in, you could lose the leg. You don't want that, do you?"

The man shook his head, sucking in air.

I tried to hide a smile and then set to properly dressing the wound. It had been so long since I had felt useful. There really wasn't much I could do caring for Stephen. I gently patted Rupert's leg when I was finished and stood again. "Anything else need tending to?" I asked.

"No," Dougal stated firmly. "We'll go at once, while it's safe."

I was beginning to gather that Dougal was the leader of whatever this little group was and they did whatever he said. Dougal walked to the door when Jamie called out to him in Gaelic. I wasn't sure what he said. But when Dougal spoke again in English, he looked at me and said, "She'll come with us."

Another man I didn't know guffawed at this. "Why do ye no just leave her here?" he asked.

Dougal looked at the man rather impatiently before he walked outside. The man still wanted an explanation. So, Murtagh explained, "Wherever the redcoats are now, they'll be here by dawn, which is no so far off considering. If this woman's an English spy, we canna risk leaving her here to tell them which way we've gone. And if she should not be on good terms wi' them, we certainly canna leave her here for Randall to find. Either way Angus, it's better for us that she comes along."

"She may be useful doctoring, given the way Jamie seems to always find himself injured," Rupert said, his tone was teasing.

"The lass fixed ye as well, Rupert," Jamie ribbed back as he managed to stand on his feet.

I heard Rupert chuckle but I found myself focused on Jamie as he stood beside me. I could help but look up at him, admiring his height. He seemed to notice that I was looking at him because he looked down and smiled at me.

"Are ye coming or would ye prefer the English to find ye?" Dougal asked as he stood at the threshold in a rather menacing position.

Despite knowing none of these men for more than a few hours, I already strongly disliked Dougal; but I also knew I would have to be careful not to cross his path. Witty remarks and retorts would do me no good with this man. Jamie nudged me with his good arm before he cocked his head towards the door, motioning me to go. I nodded my head back at him, lifted my petticoats so I wouldn't trip over them-Mistress Campbell being quite a bit taller than myself, and walked outside with my head held high. It would do no good to let Dougal know he could get to me.

It was dark outside and the moon was now covered by clouds. The rain was pelting down on my face and I was going to have to ride a horse again. I didn't see how the situation could get much worse than that. But Dougal grabbed my elbow and pulled me toward the horses. "Jamie, get yourself up," he called to be heard above the rain. "The lass will ride wi' me."

I had absolutely no desire to ride with Dougal. The only person I trusted even a little was Jamie. Thankfully, he spoke up. "She'll ride wi' me," Jamie said taking my arm from Dougal's grasp with his good arm. There was some definite tension there as the two men looked at each other silently, despite the darkness. Jamie then continued. "She can hold the reins if I canna manage one-handed."

I tried to look up at both of them, but I had to close my eyes to keep the rain out. Rupert walked by and diffused the tension. "I'm injured too, Dougal. Perhaps the lassie should ride wi' me."

Honestly, I would rather ride with Rupert than Dougal, but I would much prefer Jamie.

Dougal muttered something in Gaelic to Jamie before he turned toward me. "Should ye try anything, I shall cut your throat. D'ye understand me?"

I wanted to scoff. This man had no trust in me. Besides, I wasn't really in a position to try anything...especially atop a horse. Not that Dougal knew that. Although I suspected Jamie did. He didn't say anything in my defense, which was probably for the best. It was better Dougal not know my weakness. I told Dougal that I understood.

Jamie released my arm and mounted the horse. Dougal then stooped suddenly beside me holding out his hands laced together. I honestly had no desire to be atop a horse again. It wasn't until Jamie offered me his good hand to help me up that I placed my right foot on Dougal's hand.

"Your left foot," Dougal hissed.

I thought I heard a small chuckle from Jamie, but I could have been hearing things. Especially given the pouring rain. I hastily removed my right foot and stepped up with my left and took hold of Jamie's hand.

Dougal gave a slight grunt as he lifted me into the saddle in front of Jamie, who gathered me close to him with his good arm. Despite the pouring rain, Jamie was still quite warm, for which I was thankful. Even with the afghan around my shoulders, I was still cold. So, I leaned back against him.

As the other men began to mount their horses, Jamie began to twist and turn from behind me. I looked at him as he was attempting to use his injured arm. "Careful now," I chided him, attempting to gently hold his injured arm in place. "I thought I told you not to use that. What on earth are you trying to do?"

"Get my plaid loose to cover ye," he replied. "You're shivering so hard it's making my teeth rattle, lass. My plaid'll keep us both warm, but I canna do it one-handed. Can ye reach the clasp of my brooch for me?"

While I somewhat doubted that he was actually cold, I managed to get his brooch unclasped. After some tugging and awkward shifting, which made me blush in the darkness, we managed to get the plaid loose. He twirled the cloth and let it settle shawllike around his shoulders before he put the ends over my shoulders and tucked them neatly beneath the saddle edge. We were snugly wrapped beneath the cloth, pressed together closely. I was small enough against him that the plaid shielded my face a bit from the rain.

I probably should have been embarrassed by how close I was to him, but I was rather thankful that the plaid hid from view how tightly I clung to Jamie beneath it. Like our first ride together, I had one hand tightly clasped to his thigh and the other around the arm, his good arm, that was at my waist. Despite how uncomfortable the situation was, I felt rather comfortable and safe in this position beside a man I hardly knew.

"Thank you," I told him as urged the horse to begin moving. He didn't say anything, but I felt him move behind me. I assumed he nodded his head. I then asked, "Where are we going?"

A short rueful laugh escaped his lips. "Tell ye the truth, lassie, I don't know. Reckon we'll both find out when we get there, eh? We'll be riding all night and the next one too, I reckon."

"How comforting," I muttered to myself.

He laughed again. I hardly ever made Stephen laugh and at present, I couldn't even remember a time when I had.

* * *

At some point during the night, I fell asleep against Jamie's chest. When I awoke, the sun was shining and the rain had stopped. Thank God. I tried to stretch a little. I ached in places I had never ached before. I hoped we would stop soon so that I could properly stretch.

"Sleep well?" Jamie asked with a chuckle.

"Is that even possible while riding a horse?" I groaned which elicited a chuckle from Jamie. "I'll take that as a no." That time I didn't hear Jamie chuckle, but I felt a rumble in his chest and that made me smile.

I took a deep breath and took in my surroundings. I was surprised to find that in the daylight, the stretch we were on seemed somewhat familiar. Granted, the last time I had been in Lottie's automobile; but I recognized the rock formation ahead of us. It was shaped like a rooster's tail. Lottie had called it Cocknammon Rock. She had said something else about it too. I stared up at the rocks, trying to remember what she had told me about them. And then it came to me.

The English used them for ambushes and if there was an English patrol...which there likely was given they were chasing after us. But I couldn't just come right out with it, could I? Dougal was likely suspicious of me. Murtagh had said as much. I looked up at Jamie. He was my only hope. I was going to have to get him to come up with the idea on his own as to not draw more suspicion on me.

I cleared my throat. "Have you passed through here before?" I asked him.

"Not for some time," he responded.

"Is-is it safe?"

I felt him stiffen.

"I mean, with Randall and his men on our trail. I don't know much about these types of things, but isn't being in the low grounds a disadvantage? At this moment, couldn't they be up there waiting for us?" I probably delved too far, but I needed him to understand.

He seemed to. "It's a bonnie place for an ambush, right enough," he responded.

Jamie then clucked our horse and urged it up alongside Dougal's. They began talking in Gaelic. I had expected as much. The horses then slowed to a walk and then stopped altogether. Dougal looked up at Cocknammon Rock and scrutinized it. His expression hardened. I silently prayed that he saw it for what I knew it to be.

Dougal then lifted his arm and shouted something in Gaelic. In response, Jamie grabbed me round the waist and unceremoniously dropped me to the ground. "Hide yourself," he told me before he shouted something in Gaelic and raced after Dougal along with the other men.

I rolled down the small hill thankfully stopping short before plunging into the river. I somehow managed to stand, despite the petticoats seemingly working against me. I looked after the men, Jamie in particular. Just before he disappeared from my view, I could swear that I saw him removing his injured arm from the sling.

"Men," I muttered to myself with my hands on my hips, shaking my head. They were going to be gone for a time, giving me time to make a decision concerning my future. Should I run or should I stay?

* * *

**Author's Note: Back again! This is honestly the most consistent I've been with a story in forever. Y'all might not be proud, but I am! Haha. While I'm definitely behind on NaNoWriMo, it's definitely helping me with writing this story! Haha. Also, I'm glad y'all seemed to enjoy Jamie's introduction last chapter. The next few chapters will seem rather like replacing canon with an OC, but things will be a bit different and then I'll be headed somewhat off canon. Just so you're aware.**

**A big thanks to my reviewers:**

**FFN:** Snow Treasures, KeepCalmLoveMultipleFandoms, WaitingFortheLights, Awesome Sauce1998, Rubber Duckiez, TheWiseQueen, Darkwolf76, i am cloud, EllieDragon, NatBBfan, Vorst, FracesBell, and liysyl.

**Ao3:** sawatz46, Mimikoflamemaker, JanMarie, and CleverReference24601


	8. Questions and Answers

I stayed put. Well, I moved downstream a bit so that I could get a drink of water without falling headfirst into the river. I was maybe thirty feet from where Jamie had unceremoniously dumped me from his horse before taking off toward the sound of gunfire. I could have very easily have crossed the stream and taken off into the wilderness, but truthfully that wasn't in my best interest. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I needed this group of Highlanders until I was safe from Captain Randall.

I mused that I could find refuge back home, in my own time, but I had no growing desire to return. I should have wanted to go back, right? Everything I knew was there. But the way I saw it, I had been given a second chance at life which most people only dreamed of getting. Who was I to reject such an offer, especially when it was truly my heart's desire. Even though I was on the run from the English with a group of Scottish Highlanders who didn't trust me, I had never felt so alive. I didn't know yet why fate had decided to show such favor on me, but I was determined to find out. Which meant I needed to continue down this path it had shown me.

Lifting my skirts, I ripped off a piece of my petticoat and thrust it into the river so that I could wash my face. I preferred warm water to wash, but it still felt quite refreshing. It was also better than rain continuously beating against my face. But I was likely going to have to get used to the rain once and for all unless I planned on taking a trip across the Atlantic soon. If I stayed in Scotland, that would mean I would need to somehow manage to stay free of Captain Randall's clutches.

Knowing I needed to enjoy the sunshine while I had it, I closed my eyes and lifted my face upward. I sang to myself as I basked in the sun. It felt good to have the sun's rays beating down upon me. Although, Jamie had been warmer. Speaking of Jamie, when I opened my eyes, I found him jumping from his horse with a sword in his hand. He didn't look happy staring down at the place where he had dropped me. He also looked to be muttering to himself as he stared across the river.

I smirked. He was trying to track me. He probably thought I had run. My decision to stay defied most logic. "Looking for me?" I called, standing to my feet so that he could see me from behind a bush that hid me from his view.

Jamie swung around with a brief glimpse of surprise on his face, but his facade quickly returned and he marched toward me holding his broadsword in his hand. He was covered in blood and his arm was still out of the sling. It was without a doubt going to pain him more than if he had just listened to me. He stopped a few feet away from me, still holding his sword out.

I folded my arms across my chest. "I would appreciate if you lowered the sword, please," I told him. "Not only for my benefit, but yours as well. I thought I told you not to use that arm. Typical man."

He seemed to ignore my words. Instead, he said, "Ye stayed." His tone was more questioning than a statement, but he lowered the sword.

I scoffed. "I did. You told me to."

His brow furrowed. "Why? Ye could have run."

I nodded my head agreeing with him. "I could have. Even thought about it." I paused to see if he would react to that, but he didn't. So, I continued. "But unless you've killed Randall just now, I'm safer with you and your friends than running into him again unprotected. I might have bested him once, but now he knows not to let his guard down around me so it likely will not be able to repeat my performance. Not to mention I'm a stranger in an unknown land and I'm fairly certain you know more about the area than I do."

Jamie nodded his head, but to my surprise, he didn't say anything and he still hadn't sheathed his sword. It still hung in his hand. He was still using the arm I told him not to. Men were stubborn creatures.

I sighed. "I'm not a spy, by the way. You could tell Dougal and the others that." It was obvious that was what he was thinking. While I had descended from spies, I was not one nor had I any desire to be one.

He smiled a little and then responded, "Sounds like something a spy would say, no?"

I rolled my eyes. "It also sounds like something someone who isn't a spy would say too. Besides, if I was a spy who am I spying for? Who would a colonist in Scotland be spying for?"

Jamie shrugged. I saw him wince and I looked at him with my best nearly-a-doctor look of disapproval. He then continued, "Dougal thinks you're an English spy."

"That's ridiculous!" I groaned throwing my hands up in exasperation. "You do realize that many colonists aren't so fond of the English either." I wanted to start to argue about taxation without representation and quartering soldiers, but if we were pre-Culloden, then most of the grievances against the English likely were not in effect. "Besides, if I were an English spy, why would I want to be on Randall's bad side? He's the vilest and loathsome man I've ever had the displeasure of meeting."

"Dougal thinks no one told Randall so it would be more believable."

I rolled my eyes. I couldn't help it. "Because obviously, I knew you'd be stealing a cow from Mistress Campbell and that Randall followed us through the woods back to her place after I got lost after Mistress Campbell happened to stumble across me and offer me some assistance." I was breathing heavily after that little rant. I took a deep breath and held head high before finishing, "It's circumstantial at best. Besides, as I'm certain you've surmised by now, I'm terrified of horses. I never would have ridden one unless my life was in danger...and even then, you had to force me."

Jamie smirked at that last bit, but he didn't say anything. That frustrated me. After all that and I wasn't sure if he believed me. I heaved a sigh and set my jaw. "What can I do to prove to you that I'm not a spy?"

"How about ye gi' me a name?"

"Ruthie. Ruthie Tallmadge. I mean, my given name is Ruth, Ruth Lydia Tallmadge; but my friends and family call me Ruthie." It was better that I kept my maiden name. If I went by my married name, they could bring me before the Arbuckle clan and none of them would know me, despite the fact that in my time, I truly had married into the Arbuckle family. They were very unlikely to trace down any Tallmadges. It would require too much work to go to the colonies and back to verify my story.

"And where are ye from Mistress Tallmadge."

"I've already told you I'm from the colonies. Not to mention that my accent gives away the fact that I'm from neither here nor England. But you must need more than that, I suppose." I paused for a moment and looked at him. He nodded his head. "Well, if you must know, I'm from Litchfield in the colony of Connecticut." I paused again and then took a giant risk, given the fact that I didn't know the year. "Tallmadges have been in the colonies for several generations and I guarantee you that should the colonies ever find themselves at war with England, my family would not be loyal to the king. I probably shouldn't have told you that, but I think the Scots know a thing or two about rebelling against the English. Hmm?"

I couldn't tell quite what he was thinking. His lips were pursed and he appeared to be thinking over what I said. I was trying to keep as close to the truth as possible, but there was one very important detail I needed to leave out-otherwise they really would think I was a witch.

Thankfully, it seemed he believed me. Well, he at least sheathed his sword, so he must not have found me too much of a threat. Jamie finally asked, "What are ye doing in Scotland?"

That was fair enough. I told him, "It's a long story, but in short, my husband became ill and wanted to come here, to Scotland. So, I came here with him and his sister, whom I was traveling with yesterday when we became separated. Which is how I ended up with Mistress Campbell."

Jamie simply nodded his head in understanding, but I was done talking. With my hands on my hips, I marched toward him. "Now, if you're done interrogating me, I'd like to see that shoulder. I can see you've been misusing it and you're covered in blood."

"It's no my blood," he responded and then paused for a moment. "At least no much of it anyway."

"How reassuring. Still, you ought to let me see. You could have done more damage by simply using the arm...even after I specifically told you not to."

He smiled slightly, but when my hands reached to move his shirt away for a better look at his shoulder, he side-stepped me. "Dougal and the others will be waiting. Let's go." He gestured toward his horse.

"Your shoulder…" I began as I reached toward him again, but he easily slipped out of my reach.

"Pay it no mind, Mistress Tallmadge." There was something odd about the way he said my name, but I couldn't quite place what it was.

Instead, I growled under my breath. "Are you always this stubborn?" I asked him in exasperation, my hands once again on my hips and my expression stern.

Jamie laughed. His laugh was infectious. I tried not to smile, but there was no use. I suppose the scene was rather comical. Me, a small woman barely over five feet tall trying to take on a big, strapping Highlander several inches over six feet. When he saw my expression soften he said, "It runs in the family. Now, if ye will, Mistress Tallmadge, we ought to be going." He gestured toward his horse.

I swallowed hard and moved my arms so that they were folded across my chest. I then looked to the ground in embarrassment, feeling my cheeks beginning to redden. "I wasn't lying when I said I was scared of horses."

"Aye, I know." He smiled slightly and moved to reach to touch me before he clenched his hand in a fist and slowly lowered his hand. "I willna let ye fall. I give ye my word."

I arched an eyebrow and stared at him rather incredulously. "Oh? Then what happened the last time?"

"That was different. I threw ye." He grinned broadly, almost laughing at his own response.

Even if I had wanted to stay angry with him about it, I couldn't. It just wasn't in me. "You could have warned me, you know," I told him, trying my hardest not to smile back at him.

He shrugged again with his bad shoulder and winced a bit. "I give ye my word not to throw ye…" he paused for a moment before finishing. "...unless absolutely necessary."

I knew that was about as good as I was going to get from him. So, I nodded my head and walked toward the horse. I looked up at the creature and shuddered slightly. While I had already been atop the beast several times, I still didn't trust it. I knew it to be a necessary evil. I then turned toward Jamie who was bent over beside me with his hands woven together for me to use.

"Your shoulder," I gently chided him.

Jamie shook his head. "I can manage a wee thing like you. I'm injured, not an invalid. Besides, ye can have a look at it when we get where we're going."

"Men," I muttered and rolled my eyes before I placed my foot in his hands.

He easily seemed to hoist me up onto the horse before climbing up himself. He reached for the reins and gave the horse a command. I braced myself against Jamie as I had before. He seemed a little stiffer than our last ride, his body more resistant to my presence. But I still felt safer with him there behind me, holding onto me as I desperately clung to him. And then we were off once again.

It wasn't long before we came upon Dougal and the other men waiting for us on a path. Like Jamie, they were bloodied up a bit and sweating, but it looked like everyone was still alive. Jamie hadn't mentioned if Randall had been a part of the party they ambushed, but it made sense to me that he likely had been. Nor had Jamie commented on Randall being dead, meaning he was likely still alive. I had a feeling that I was now just as wanted as these Highlanders, a reality that no one like myself could ever have prepared themselves for.

Dougal nodded at Jamie, but not a single word was spoken before our group began down the trodden path. Jamie and I were in the middle of the group. I couldn't help but wonder if my presence had gotten him knocked up or down a few pegs in the pecking order of things. But I didn't say anything on the matter. We simply rode.

A few hours into our ride, the rush of everything seemed to finally be wearing off and my stomach grumbled. Loud. I flushed in embarrassment when I heard and felt Jamie chuckle behind me. I flushed, even more, when Rupert, who was riding beside us said, "Hey, then Jamie-lad! Hungry, are ye? Or have ye a set of bagpipes with ye?" He had mistaken my stomach's complaints for Jamie's.

I expected him to pass the blame back onto me, where it rightfully belonged. But he didn't. He surprised me by gallantly assuming the blame himself. "Hungry enough to eat a set of pipes, I reckon."

I looked up at him over my shoulder to see him looking down at me with a smile on his face. Thank you, I mouthed to him. He nodded his head. Rupert then handed a flask to Jamie. Jamie nodded his head in thanks as he accepted it. He took a swig of the alcohol before he passed it to me. "Better have a wee nip," he whispered in my ear sending shivers down my spine. "It willna fill your belly, but it will make ye forget you're hungry."

I wanted to ask him if he spoke from experience, but surrounded by all these other men didn't seem to be the place to ask. I much preferred speaking to him alone. He fascinated me. While he behaved very much as one would expect of a man, there was something about him that I couldn't put my finger on. But I didn't tell him that. Instead, I lifted the flask to my mouth and swallowed a drink of the liquid.

When I was finished, I licked a dribble from my lips and then wiped my lips with the back of my hand. Jamie then reached out with his good hand and grabbed the flask again before calling to Rupert. It was strange that it seemed like he could anticipate my needs. I wasn't sure whether it was the 18th-century thing or whether he was just that observant. I reasoned the former because I had never met a man quite so observant of my needs before...besides my father.

Darkness finally fell and we were still atop the horses. I ached terribly. I was fairly certain long distances like this on horseback weren't advised for amateurs like myself, not that I really had a choice. I would much rather have my backside ache from a horse than whatever it was Randall had planned for me. The men talked amongst themselves, but never once made any attempt to include me in the conversation and I was fine with that. I wasn't sure what I could have contributed to their conversation anyway. I wasn't a warrior nor was I a raider. I did wish that Jamie would have attempted with me. Although, he didn't make much of an attempt with the men either. He even ignored a good nature rib from Rupert. Rupert's face confirmed my suspicion that it wasn't normal for Jamie to stifle a retort.

I looked at Jamie over my shoulder. While I only had the light of the moon to see, I was certain that he looked paler than the last time I looked at him. His jaw was clenched and he kept blinking to try and stay awake before almost nodding off. He seemed to wobble from side to side. My first thoughts were to wonder if he was drunk, but that didn't make sense. If I, as someone who rarely drank, wasn't drunk, then surely a man his size and of his heritage couldn't be.

The only other logical option was…

I didn't have time to finish that thought because Jamie began sliding from the horse, still holding onto me. So, I was dragged from the beast with him. I squealed as we fell to the ground. Thankfully we landed in tall grass which seemed to break our fall a bit. When I managed to catch my breath, I asked him if he was all right. But he didn't respond.

Quickly, I whirled out from beneath his arm and crawled on top of him. I leaned over his head. I lowered my ear toward his mouth and pressed against his carotid artery for a pulse. His pulse was rather rapid, but it was strong. I also watched his chest rise and fall as I felt his breath against my ear.

I straightened. He was alive. Thank, God. I brought a hand to my chest and breathed a sigh of relief. "I think he's just fainted," I announced to the men. "Bring the saddle-bags and put them under his feet," I ordered. "And if anyone has water, he could use some."

I was surprised by how quickly the men reacted. I reasoned that Jamie must be someone important to them. My fingers quickly tugged at the collar of his shirt, pulling it aside to reveal a bullet hole. Because of course there would be one there. What kind of person rode for miles with a bullet hole in his shoulder? His bad one too.

Jamie's eyes finally fluttered open. They were quite beautiful in the moonlight. His hand reached out and grabbed my hand which held his shirt.

"I'm all right. Just a wee bit dizzy," he said, trying to sit; but I held him back.

"Lie still," I commanded him.

Reluctantly he did as I told him, which I think surprised both of us. I tried to stifle a smile of satisfaction. So, I focused myself on his wound. "You know, we could have avoided such dramatics if you'd have let me look at your shoulder when I asked you, you stubborn man," I told him without looking at him.

"I did warn ye," he grimaced as I continued to examine his wound.

"That's not an excuse," I muttered. "At least, not a good one. Now, it looks like the bullet went through and missed anything vital, thankfully." I gently released the cloth of his shirt and looked down at him rather sternly. "So much for promising not to let me fall," I told him, folding my arms over my chest.

He forced a chuckle. "I do believe that I promised ye that unless it was absolutely necessary."

"And was it? Absolutely necessary?"

"You're on the ground with me, are ye no?"

I rolled my eyes before I gently punched his good shoulder. He looked slightly bewildered at me before I punched him again. He then reached out and grabbed my hand with his good hand.

"What's that for?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

I looked at him rather incredulously, despite the darkness shielding my expression from him."For nearly scaring me to death, that's what. Be thankful I promised to do no harm, otherwise, I would have punched the other one."

"Threats is it? And after I shared my drink with ye too!"

I scoffed. "Now let's see about fixing you up. Is there anywhere else I ought to look? Unless you'd prefer a repeat performance."

Jamie looked at me rather hesitantly before he lifted the hem of his shirt up to reveal a stab wound on his abdomen. It was a shallow wound and hadn't torn through the muscle. I looked at him and shook my head. "Stubborn man," I muttered again and he chuckled despite the pain.

I then turned to look for Rupert. He was standing to my right. "Is there still alcohol in that flask?" I asked him. "I need to clean his wounds before they become inflamed. The alcohol cleans it of all the dirt-the same thing I did to your leg."

But it was Murtagh who thrust a flask in my hands. I knew better than to ask if they carried any sterile bandages. I should have thought to made strips last night when I bandaged Rupert. I looked around and then remembered I had layers of clothing beneath my skirt. I reached to hike it up when I caught Jamie looking at me quizzically.

I was then reminded of 18th-century modesty measures. So, whispered to him. "I should warn you, you might accidentally catch a glance of my ankle. Try your best not to be utterly scandalized."

I was surprised when he shut his eyes as I raised my skirt to show my petticoats. I found the area I had ripped earlier and tore away several more strips before lowering the petticoat. "It's safe to look now," I told him.

He smiled slightly. "This might hurt a bit," I warned him before I poured some alcohol on his bullet wound. He hissed, but still held rather still. I was surprised that he had hardly reacted. In my experience, men could be big babies when it came to such measures. I quickly pressed a piece of my petticoat against the wound.

I then used another strip of my petticoat to tie down the one pressed against his shoulder. "You better listen this time when I tell you not to use this," I muttered more for my own benefit, but Jamie must have heard me because he gave me a curt nod.

I then attended to the wound on his abdomen, which he confessed came from a bayonet. He really should be thankful. A bayonet could have inflicted far greater damage than a deep scratch. It could have punctured his organs and he could have bled to death internally. I found myself saying a silent prayer of thanks that it hadn't been worse.

I crawled back on top of him to get one last look at the bullet wound. I poured alcohol on it once more just to be sure I had rid it of any germs before returning the bandages. "Don't you dare take those off unless I tell you. Do you hear me?"

"I hear ye," he managed. "Threats again, is it?"

"If that's what it takes," I responded before I exhaled slowly. I then turned to Dougal. "He's going to need rest."

"We've got fifteen miles yet," he told me rather gruffly.

"Until we're safe from the redcoats?" I asked.

Dougal shook his head. "We're far enough from them. It's the Watch we need to look out for."

I wasn't sure what the Watch was, but if whatever it was concerned Dougal, then it couldn't be a good thing. If Dougal was concerned about them, then I knew I should be as well. "It would be better if he rested, but I take it that isn't going to happen, is it?"

Dougal then looked at Jamie. "Think ye can manage, Jamie-lad? Can ye ride?"

Jamie looked at me and smirked before looking back up at Dougal. "Aye, if ye'll get the lassie off my chest and fetch me a clean shirt."

Thankfully the near darkness hid my furious blushing as I scrambled off Jamie. The men laughed. At my expense no doubt. Dougal tossed Jamie a shirt. I turned my head, so he wouldn't think I was watching him, but in the moonlight, I could help but do so. I tried to be discreet as I watched him pull his shirt off revealing a toned physique. I mean, I had basically seen as much when I had bandaged him; but I couldn't help but notice him now. I couldn't help but watch him and that made me blush.

I brought my hand to rub my flushed cheeks and dropped my gaze to the ground. "It's safe to look, lassie," Jamie said in a teasing tone which made the other men laugh.

He moved to get up.

"Wait!" I called.

He stopped and looked at me rather quizzically, but he obeyed my request.

I pulled my hair behind my ears. "I have one last test to administer before you get up."

One more test to see if he had hit his head during the fall. I was fairly certain that he hadn't, but this test would also allow me to get at least one crucial answer I desired. It wasn't exactly like I could come right out and ask what year it was without them thinking me insane.

Jamie nodded his head in agreement. I cleared my throat. "These questions might seem silly to you, but they help me determine if you did damage to your head when you fell."

"What is the year?"

In the moonlight, I could see his expression wasn't amused. "I told you they'd seem silly. Just answer them." I paused for a moment before tacking on, "Please."

"1743," he said rather gruffly.

I inhaled sharply and held my breath. I offered him a smile as I quickly tried to process what I had already reasoned. 18th century hadn't been a bad guess. Spot on. Neither Ben nor Lydia were alive yet. Ben wouldn't be born for at least another eleven years and Lydia about fourteen. Thankfully, the Tallmadges were already in the colonies, so I hadn't lied about that.

Dougald cleared his throat behind me. Right. Other questions. I had gotten the most important one answered. So then I asked, "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

I don't know why, but I smiled at that answer. He wasn't much older than I was. I looked up at one of the men for verification. Murtagh nodded his head.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"We fell from a horse, or do ye no remember that?" The men around us chuckled and Jamie grinned at me.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Your head appears fine."

"I could've told ye that my head's as hard as a rock." He grinned proudly.

I couldn't help but smile back. "Given your stubbornness, I suppose it really shouldn't surprise me, huh?"

Jamie was about to say something to me when Murtagh leaned in close to us. "If ye two are all well and done, the rest of us would like to get going. Unless you'd rather we leave ye both here." He feigned a smile and then walked away.

I probably would have laughed if I didn't think he was actually serious about leaving us. So, I stood up and then offered Jamie my hand to help him up. He looked at my outstretched hand for a moment before he accepted my offer. I tried my best to help pull him up, but I knew he was doing most of the work. He was certainly a solid man. I probably would have toppled right on him if he hadn't done most of the work.

We then walked back to his horse. This time it was Murtagh who helped me up. He also helped Jamie too. I was surprised how much Murtagh always seemed to be the first one willing to help Jamie. I wondered what their exact connection was...they were likely related somehow, I mused.

Once Murtagh was out of earshot, I turned toward Jamie. "If you're going to go over again, please let me know in advance this time," I warned him. I could feel the rumble in his chest from a silent chuckle. "I"m being perfectly serious. And if either of your wounds are giving you trouble. You tell me that too. Do you understand?"

Jamie nodded his head. "Aye."

I knew that was likely the best I was going to get. Chastising him any farther, especially in front of the other men would be pointless and probably make him less likely to tell me. So, I nodded my head and tried to sit up straight in the saddle and hugged myself, not leaning against him out of fear of hurting his injuries. I inhaled slowly and exhaled, trying to mentally prepare myself for the journey.

He must have known what I was doing because he said, "Ye willna hurt me, lass. Lean against me if ye please."

"Thank God," I whispered before I leaned against him as I had on our earlier trips. Jamie's body didn't seem quite as resistant as the last time. And he was warm, for which I was thankful for while the rain beat against us again. Careful of his injuries, I managed to lean against him and gripped his leg. He covered us with his plaid and I unintentionally sighed against him.

"Have you figured out where we're going yet?" I asked.

He answered, "Leoch, I expect."

I exhaled. Well, at least it was somewhere I had technically been before...or at least would one day visit.

* * *

Author's Note: Here's some more Jamie and Ruthie for y'all! I'm really enjoying their buildup. :) They're fun to write. So, Ruthie revealed quite a bit to Jamie. She trusts him already. We'll have to see how they keep developing! :) I truly hoped you enjoyed this. I've been kinda struggling this week with real life, so your support means the world to me. To all who read/reviewed/followed/favorited/kudos/etc...it means a lot. Thank you.

Special thanks to my reviewers:

FFN: Hoqwaarts, Snow Treasures, KeepCalmandLoveMultipleFandoms, Guest (a.k.a. Talk With Your Hands), Hidden Journey, Waiting for the Lights, Awesome Sauce1998, munited17, lisyl, NatBBfan, ColdAndBrokenHallelujah, Slow Dancing in the Snow, SunFlowerHufflepuff, alex andrea, Guest (2), Guest (3), You'veGotMail24, Wayward Jules, Guest (a.k.a Rennys Autumn)

AO3: CleverReference24601 and JanMarie


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